I felt almost like I'd never opened my eyes before, or at least, not in Utah. The landscape was seeping gold: from the sky, from the grass, from the ridges on the mountains. The colors were grounded, deeply adhered to the earth. I forget sometimes that pigment comes from the dirt and the plants and the elements. Deep purple, rich blue, warm gold. Greens, browns, pinks that I hadn't seen for what seemed like a long, long time. And then we saw a rainbow.
I had to take off my seat belt on our drive back from Idaho. I was bouncing from window to window with my phone nearly pressed against the glass.
Maybe I'll try some landscapes next. Utah is too beautiful to not honor with brush and knife.
I love the city. I loved our lifestyle in Bologna, walking to the store everyday, going to parks, piazzas, shops, the library. . . stopping by local events, feeling part of a community that extends beyond the back fence. But for a moment I thought I could be a cow girl. I could wake up happy smelling grass and mud and seeing the sky stretch out forever overhead. I could tromp for hours and never see another human being. I could let my hair grow wild. I could be free.
I felt connected to my roots, to my Utah heritage, to my God when I looked out the windows, constantly capturing. I think as much as I am many other things, I will always be a Utah girl.
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