RUST REMOVAL: DAY 3

Slowly but surely, haltingly but patiently struggling forward, working with the Writer’s Digest’s writing plan:

A 12-Day Plan of Simple Writing Exercises

Day 3:  Write a setting based on the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen.

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I was never what you call a nature person. I like astronomy and space travel. Correct that: I love and I’m fascinated by it. The NASA channel is first one up on my cable’s Favorite list.

The physical things here on the ground were another story. I never went camping, grew up in a seaport city, so the beach was nothing special. My trips to the zoo were ok. Or as Dom De Luise as Caesar says, “Nice. Not thrilling, but nice.”

My attitude is changed now. Here we go…

It’s a rainy Friday night in Cupertino, and Ron is absolutely giddy about it. “That means it’s going to be snow over there.”

There is Yellowstone National Park. We’ve flown to San Francisco on a Friday to get in a weekend of sightseeing before our Hewlett-Packard training class begins Monday. It’s been a full day of riding all over the city as soon as we checked in, and with lots of things to do on our agenda (yea, we’re here for training, but come on, our first time in San Francisco?) Ron wants to move the Yellowstone visit up to tomorrow.

I’m not much of a nature person, but I love flying, especially to California. I spend the entire journey looking at the changing landscape, and the memory of seeing landmarks in real life will never be forgotten. The Mississippi is a big-ass river! The Rockies are awesome! Maybe that’s how I like nature – at 30,000 feet.

We’re joined by Linda, a flight attendant for Delta that I’m dating, and that Saturday the three of us make the journey. It’s a clear day, and as we go along I see what Ron was talking about. The amount of snow gradually increases, and soon it’s a winter wonderland. I’ve dealt with lots of snow before, so nothing dynamic happening here.

After we park the car and begin to walk the first thing that gets my attention is the sound, like a building collapsing. Ron notices the look on my face, and grinning he tells me “That was blocks of ice and snow falling.”

Suddenly I’m really paying attention to where I am. The snow and trees and the sounds are different. It’ s not just a park anymore, not just trees and snow. Now I’m putting them all together, looking at the whole picture. Now I’m not in the city, throwing snowballs in the yard. There’s a little bit of fun happening here.

Now I’m looking at a mountain that goes straight up, there’s no gradual slope. It’s a gray wall that goes up forever. Take a rectangular piece of rock, stick it in the ground vertically, and then enlarge it a million times. I’m staring, and it freaks me out when I realize that I’m standing here staring.

Nature ratchets it up on me – clouds start to roll over the edge of the top, like someone’s dumped dry ice up there, turned on a disco fog machine. Spilling over, the clear blue sky giving sharp edges to them, like someone coloring within the lines, the contrast making them seem so much whiter. I have my camera with me and I take a few shots before another rumble gets my attention again. I go back to staring.

I’ve seen mountains, seen snow, seen clouds. Been on a mountain in the midst and clouds, never giving a second thought to the world around me. Now, it’s all that I see. Ron and Linda are off somewhere, I’m still looking up, in my own world.

The moment in everyone’s life, the moment some place or person or event tells you right then and there that this is special, a good special, happens to me. The moment that’s seared into memory forever.

I feel… small.

For the first time in my life, I’m awestruck.

I don’t think about anything except what I’m seeing, and I recognize now how someone can describe nature as peaceful, beautiful, enjoyable, awesome… and the handiwork of God. The rumble is His voice, the clouds His breath.

“Yea, David. I can see where you’re coming from.”

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