Canyonlands Journal
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Springtime in Utah. For several weeks, I woke to the song of a tiny black and white warbler, shared a pancake breakfast with my hiking companions, and considered the possibilities.

From sunup to sunset, we explored a labyrinth of canyons and, on occasion, came across thousand-year-old ruins built into sandstone alcoves by the Ancestral Puebloans. A thousand years ago, they vacated these canyons to find other places to grow their corn, squash and beans ... or perished.

By firelight, we shared dinner, drank spirits, watched the moon rise above eroded pinnacles and mused about the meaning of the evocative rock art we had found.

Back home in Canada, I wake to the sound of house sparrows chattering in the still leafless apple tree, pour milk over dry cereal and consider the possibilities.

Read the newspaper? Go shopping? Clean the garage? Pay the bills?

At 1 p.m. I have a dental appointment.

my bicycle
resting against the wall –
both tires flat

Image: Deadwood on Sandstone

Slickrock, sandstone