I don't know if you can see me in the top photo, but I'm that teeny tiny figure in the middle, and teeny tiny is how I felt as I stood surrounded by all the red rock cliffs in St. George, Utah. It's far away from my home in Indiana, and as different as it can be. At home I'm near Lake Michigan, with lots of forests and trees and deer and squirrels. Here in Utah, there are lots of rocks -- rocky mountains, rocky ground, rock gardens and walls and house foundations and even siding. It sounds boring, but it's beautiful. The rocks are mainly red, ranging from a pale, soft red to a vivid blood red, depending on how the sun hits it. The photo does not do it justice. The photo below does a better job.
I came to give a workshop at a writers conference and while here, decided to do some sight-seeing. Now I wish I'd taken a few more days, because there is so much more I'd like to see.
In the photos I'm hiking a trail in Snow Canyon, way, way up until I was nose-bleed high - or so it seemed to this acrophobic. I went as close as I could get to the edge of an overlook, and as I gazed down into the valley below, I realized how insignificant one tiny ant of a being is in the grand scheme of things, especially considering that those red rock cliffs have been there for millions of years, while my time on earth is shorter than the blink of an eye.
By the time you read this, I will be back home, God willing, picking up the story in mystery #15 from where I left off. I always use my experiences somehow, so somewhere along the line, you may read about Abby and Marco hunting down a killer in the red rocks of Utah.
Whether that happens or not, this has been a delightful experience. Have you ever been to the red rocks or anything similar? Did you get that feeling of being insignificant?