On our way to Winslow last Saturday, and then as we drove on to Utah Valley, we saw something like this.
THRICE. Three separate times, we were convinced our voyage would be terminated because we were driving straight into a fiery inferno.
Fortunately the fire outside the ‘slow was pretty small and (I believe) was put out within a day or two. The fire along the 89 was being dealt with, and we never actually saw where the flames were. And the fire just west of I-15–the one that made the mountains look like volcanoes spewing ash into the wind–wasn’t burning when we drove home, so fire crews must’ve taken care of it too.
Then a fourth fire broke out on the other side of Mount Timpanogos from where we were staying. I’m not sure what kind of damage it did, but a few roads were closed and we were a little worried that our vacation might literally go up in flames. Fortunately it never came really close, and I’m pretty sure crews got it under control quickly, since we didn’t see any smoke the following day.
Last night we finally got some rain. I know other parts of the Valley have been seeing rain for a couple days now, but Tempe always seems to miss out. We woke up to wet grass, though, and puffy white clouds in the sky. Thank goodness for monsoons. This whole western desert region is literally burning to death.
It’s no wonder, then, that Robert Frost’s poem “Fire and Ice” has been rolling around my brain for the last couple weeks.
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
Right now I’m thinking fire is more likely. And certainly more dramatically and terrifyingly beautiful.
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