Lightening is "Hot"

The surface of the sun is hot. Scientists say about 6000°C (11000°F). The temperature of lightening is said to be 30,000 °C (54,000 °F), hot enough to fuse silica sand into glass. The big difference is the speed. In fact, the reason for thunder is the speed of air molucles trying to get out of the way of the heat. It's like popping a bag. The noise is not the bag breaking but the air moving fast.

If you've ever watched the clouds in the summer sky you may have witnessed the magnetic pull cumulus clouds have toward each other as fluffy, white puffs grow and mound higher and higher, darker and darker. It is a show of power beyond human control.

I grew up being excited about thunder storms. They were fun to watch and experience. It was also fun to join the annual hike up Mount Timpanogos until too many people made the trail a scar on the mountain. Once, while at the top, a thunder storm began to gather right before us. Hair stood up on heads and arms. Air would crackle as you moved your fingers. Everyone got off the peak as quickly as possible before the strike could come. But the feelings! It was exilerating! It's amazing what electricity does to the emotions.

Bruce and I used to hike with a mountain climbing club. I remember a trip to the Wind Rivers Range in Wyoming. We were camped in a very high mountain glen and I stayed in camp with a girl who was quite sick from altitude sickness. Everyone else went climbing. As we sat in the tent a quick summer storm rolled in with lightening, thunder, and wind. Having no where else to seek shelter, we stayed in the tent even though the tent poles buzzed like a bee hive and rain pounded the tent. Those on the mountain peak experienced the thunder and lightening up close and personal plus they recieved snow.

Closer to home, I remember the summer storm when the lightening show was impressive and most of the neighborhood was watching from porches until lightening hit the tall poplar trees just across the street blowing off about 6 feet of tree top. I can still smell the strong smell of the lightening and clearly remember the sharp concussion of the hit. There again, the emotions were unbelievably strong.

Now days we watch the storms through windows in comfortable safety but without the emotion or the sensual stimulation.

This weekend is the chance for us to feel the lightening again in a safe way. In fact, we can feel lightening that feeds rather than destroys. For those who attend General Conference in the conference center, they will experience the top of the mountain with all the intense emotions and senses. Those who watch the proceedings on TV will be in the mountain glen, where it will be much easier to be distracted by the rain pounding on the tent. Those who read the messages a month later will be observing through the window of their house. They will get the message but miss the strong jolt or the smell of ozone or the intense emotion of a strong presence that cannot be adequately described. But however you choose to experience conference, it will be worth the time you spend.

Blue Sky

It's amazing how dependent we can become on eletronics. I had trouble with my computer about a week ago and eventually had to have a new system installed. That meant all my past writings and even my word processor were gone. The tech said he had saved all my stuff but he overestimated my ability to now find them now.

I went to a garden lecture this morning. All the talk about “wall of waters” and plant starts made me so anxious for spring that I want to get started with the planting. Of course, this yearning will wane about July when the weeding and tending get to be a chore. Still, I would much rather work on the yard than to be cooped up in the house.

Looking out the window as I write, I see the new snow on the mountains sparkling in the sun. White cumulus clouds add to the perfect picture. I love these mountains. Whenever I am away from Utah I know I am home when the Wasatch Mountains loom into view. The only place comparable was Switzerland. They are like the arms of Mother Nature protecting me from the harm of the world. Granite hills are great a defence against fear.

I'm back to singing, in fact, there is a concert Saturday night at Libby Gardner Hall at the U of U. It starts at 7:00 and includes wonderful music. It amazes me that I can't live without singing. I must have been born singing because I can't remember being without it. My mother sang as she did housework and I know all the old songs because of that. I have so much fun anytime I sing but especially on stage. I've been in many musicals and even a few operas and I never tire of it. The thing I absolutely detest is auditioning. I turn into a blithering idiot when I have to audition. Luckily I've learned several ways to avoid that process. I'm not telling my secrets in that regard.

Time to quit and fix dinner. I made a huge pot of gumbo in honor of Mardi Gras. Since there are only three of us in the house, it will last quite a few days. I think I'll add some sweet potatoes to it today.

Forty-four Degrees and Cloudy

Today is Wednesday, very overcast. It would be gloomy if the mountains were not covered with snow that seems to reflect what little light filters through the clouds. The mountains are majestic in their black and white with a wisp of haze at the tops. Maybe it's actually snowing up there. We've had precious little this winter. I'm not normally a snow person but it just has not seemed like winter without snow. And, such unusually warm temperatures, 40s the middle of February? I wish I could say I've escaped being cold but I'm always cold, no matter how harsh or mild the winter is. I'm just not a lover of winter. I need to be like the birds, here in the warm summer and somewhere south for the winter.
I'd like to hibernate in the red-rock country where time is locked in sandstone and you can hear the whispers of the ancients. Sandstone speaks, if I sit quietly and listen with my whole body. The sound is very low and more a feeling than audible sound but it is so, so unmistakable when it comes. It is the sound of time moving through the universe. It is the sound of the future that will outlast all present life. It is a sound of permanence that grounds me and gives me faith in the past, present and future. I feel I'm on sacred ground when I walk in red-rock country. It is the land dinosaurs walked. It is a land of contrasts—drought and flash flood live together in a balance as old as time. Red-rock country is not just a place. It is a state of mind, a place of comfort, a place of refuge and healing.

I'm Color-Blind!

I suppose many of life's lessons are learned in Kindergarten but some are learned much earlier. There was a summer when I was small. I couldn't have been older than three, almost four. I was playing in the front yard of the old house on third east. My grandma was sitting on the front steps watching me. I can remember the warm sun on my bare shoulders. I was wearing a sundress with ruffles on the shoulders and a tie in the back.

A man walked by. Now that isn't too remarkable. It was a small town then, Provo, but there were people walking by at times and we did live close to a busy street. No, what was unusual was that this was the first black man I had ever seen. He looked giant-tall to me as I sat in the grass and he was so dark.

With three-year-old tact I yelled, “Look Grandma! Look at the dirty man!” Suddenly I was moved from the front walk to the porch as fast as lightening. But, Grandma wasn't angry she just told me some things that have stayed with me forever.

She told me that people all over the world look different in different ways. It doesn't matter what they look like so much as what's inside. Then she told me about herself. She was a little girl in Tennessee and she had a black mammy to look after her. She loved her mammy tremendously! Her mammy was always fussin' over her and washin' her up. One time she was so frustrated with all the fussin' and washin' she told her mammy to wash all that black off herself first and leave her alone. Her mammy laughed and laughed a long time about that and Grandma said she later learned what a silly thing it was to say because that woman was the “cleanest” woman she had ever known in her entire life.

Grandma made sure I remembered to “never pay no mind to what a person's skin color is. It's the inside that makes us human.” As a result, I grew up in the 50's and 60's out of step with the nation because I didn't understand segregation or why any of it was a problem. I still don't understand such thinking. I still don't see people as different. I may not have grown up with many blacks around but there were Mexicans and Pacific Islanders. They are all wonderful people to me. And, it's all Grandma's fault.

Weather

Today is the perfect day to be inside by a warm fireplace sipping licorice herb tea. Only yesterday the temperature was so mild I didn't even need a coat. Today started out with copious amount of rain followed by heavy snow. The change is almost too abrupt to stand. I've become used to sliding into things, not thrust head-long. The weather this year has become very unpredictable. Whoever would expect to have Southern California winter weather in December and January? December set a new record for lack of moisture. Yes, we had more than enough last year but we don't have storage space so all that water went to waste. We don't have it now.

And, what is it about doves? I've often doubted their intelligence but today, in a heavy snowstorm, there are eleven doves sitting on the back fence. Why don't they hide in the pine tree like the other birds. It's a big tree. Plenty of room for all. Are they so hungry they must stand watch over the bird feeder? They seem to think it is their own domain. Most of the time there is at least one or two perched on top. It's not that they forbid other birds from eating there. It's just that they seem to think they can live there. It's not just a diner to them. The only bird they will step aside for is the large flicker that comes to peck.

I'm grateful that the winds have died down. Sleeping was hard with fists of wind pounding the side of the house all night. The forecast seems to change often as if the forecaster doesn't really believe we are finally getting a lot of snow. Maybe winter is really here at last. We have yet to really have cold weather that will nullify all the molds of autumn. I'm just glad I'm inside with a fire and my mug of tea.

It's 4:00 in the Morning!

Some nights just are too short. Either that, or my brain is too small. When I wake up at 3am and there is no more sleep because my brain will not quit racing, I wish for a peaceful place or maybe a bigger hammer. My sister sent be a CD for Christmas that is supposed to help you meditate and relax. Normally it works fine but not this morning. Why can't I have an "off" button to the mind. I feel stretched in all directions and no solutions in sight. On the other hand, maybe, just maybe, if the stress were to lessen I might have nothing to keep me erect and I would melt to a blob on the floor. What a nice relaxful thought!

The Day After Christmas or Memories of the Past

I love Christmas. In spite of the bustle and rush and the lack of money to do all I would like, I love Christmas. Christmas is family and love. Christmas is remembering our Savior and putting life in perspective. Christmas is looking outside oneself for awhile and looking to the star that leads us to others.

Those who are wise will follow the guidelines—the stars—to where the true meaning of life waits to lift us and make us truly happy. How simple life was when we were on our mission. Yes, getting up early was hard. Knocking on doors when they were home but didn't want to talk to you was hard. Listening to promises that weren't going to be kept was hard. But, doing the things each day that were devoted to others was somehow more fulfilling than anything else we could have been doing.

The year started off with the loss of Bruce's mother. We held the funeral on her 96th birthday. I still am not used to having her gone and often have to resist the urge to phone her to share something or to see how she is doing. She was my mother as well as Bruce's for 47 years. Not visiting with her on Christmas Day was sad.

Visiting with my own mother was wonderful. She is 93 and still in her own home, although that is a constant source of worry for me. I wish she were closer or that the freeway wasn't such a mess in Utah valley. It used to take 35-40 minutes to get to her. Now I have to allow almost an hour to get there. Plus I'm white-knuckled upon arrival.

Today I'm thinking about Christmas as I review the last two days. Christmas Eve with family gathered to share the nativity story, eat tamales, and to open gifts. Our little living room was brim full of love and peace, even with a two-year-old exploring. Christmas Day opening more gifts and then attending a wonderful church service with the music that uplifts in builds. We even had a nap after church before driving to my mother's house. There we shared more stories, ate three kinds of soups plus other goodies, and opened more gifts. Phone calls from those not there made the day complete.

Today we look forward to opening presents with more grandchildren. What should I fix to eat?