The Stansbury mountain range is a succession of high peaks, some above 10,000 feet, each a lighter hue of gray proportionate to its distance. In the moments before sunrise, the clouds and sky form a sea of swirling scarlet, orange, red, and pink. The western face of the Oquirrh range once boasted thick pine forests. But over-harvesting, together with decades of settling particulate pollution from the now-defunct Anaconda smelter, denuded the mountain slopes of their forests. They now show mostly fault-fractured bedrock. With the smelter gone, the trees are slowly returning, starting from deep within the canyons and creeping back onto the slopes. Continue reading →
“Let’s go over to Harvey’s,” I suggested one Sunday afternoon soon after moving to the country house.
“Who’s Harvey?” asked Brian (8).
“Harvey is our neighbor,” I explained. “You’ll like his place. He has lots of animals.”
We walked down Church Road toward Rabbit Lane, past Russell’s arena, and turned up the dirt drive to Harvey’s log-sided house. No one answered my knock at the door, but I thought it would be alright if we looked around at Harvey’s animals. We smelled the animals before we saw them: skunk. No doubt about it. A wrinkled, water-stained sign wired to the cage read, Stay Away. Continue reading →