On Sunday, a friend and I drove through North Ogden Canyon to a quaint little city called Eden. I thought the name was very appropriate as I’m sure the Garden of Eden exhibited much of the same majesty, beauty, and tranquility that I saw in our present-day Eden.
Let me describe the scene.
My friend’s family has a mountain house in Eden, nestled along the bench of the mountain with a perfect view of the lush, green valley and the eastern mountains. In front of the house there is a stream that flows just quickly enough to create a soothing burble. There's a reservoir off in the distance. It is 8 o’clock. The sun is slowly starting to slide below the Western Mountains. The angle of the remaining light rays hits everything perfectly, highlighting the hues and the depth of each color. The valley is a deep green that only exists at the beginning of a Utah summer. The mountain behind the house is full of a variety of thick pines and leafy trees, not just the normal smattering.
Behind the eastern mountains, off in the distance, the summer storm clouds build. The few remaining rays pierce the clouds and accentuate their darkness. You can’t hear the thunder, but the lightning is abundant. As I sit by the stream and an accompanying pond, soaking in the beautiful scene in front of me, I am enveloped in a clement breeze. The warmth is the perfect contrast to the cooling air.
So, there I sit conversing with my friend.
Life was peaceful.
I didn’t want to leave.
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