grand canyon

We drove south from the Grand Canyon through Flagstaff, marveling at the random slashes of aspen through the pines of Cocanino National Forest, making our way toward Sedona. There’s no quick way to get to Sedona from the north, as far as I know; to my knowledge, the only way to slide from one to the other requires a jaunt through Oak Creek Canyon.

We were laughing and tired as Kara drove, tired from the walking and the altitude, upwards to the canyon. We realized we were being beaten over our heads with instructions to pay attention to the scenery, by means of repeated warnings: “Scenic Overlook 2 Miles.” “Scenic Overlook 1 Mile.” “Scenic Overlook ½ Mile.”

Or, as Kara said, ‘We get it already! We’ll stop! We swear!”

It’s difficult to write anything coherent about one of the most visually beautiful days of my life when I have a camera full of photos that I can’t show you. Silly computers. They promise us a world of information, given and received, and then sometimes snatch it away from us when we least expect (or want) it.