Stu Jenks' Fezziwig Press: Metaphysics

December 24, 2022

Christmas Haiku #38B

A long time ago,

On a cold December night,

Candles burned for you.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

Love, and light,

Stu.

Posted at 07:50 AM in Arizona, Art, Christmas and Winter Solstice, Emotions, Forgiveness, Greensboro, NC, Love, Metaphysics, Night Photography, Nocturnal Photography, North Carolina, Photography, Prayer, The West, Tucson | Permalink | Comments (0)

July 25, 2020

The Colorado River School by Stu Jenks.

The Colorado River School by Stu Jenks (c) July, 2020.

Pictorialist photography was a turn-of-the-20th-century movement where some photographers wanted to be in more museums, to be taken more seriously, and to be seen as artists in and of themselves, up there with painters, sculptors, printmakers, etc., using very soft focus and adding colors to the black and whites to express emotion and mood. It was a thing for a while.

It was a thing for a while with me too, using an old Brownie camera with a softening plastic lens in the early 2000's, printing black and white negs on color paper. Also in the 2010's, I used a painterly add-on in my Photoshop to make images look old and painterly.

And a week ago while hiking in the Sierra Anchas Mountains, it became a thing again, with my SLR and my killer 70-200mm lens. I saw, in my mind's eye, images with soft focus and exaggerated colors, not razor sharp but dreamy like those old Brownies of mine. Lucking I remembered a thing I can do in the RAW image section of Photoshop to make this happen. And a couple of other tricks I have too.

Three days ago, I was up at the Grand Canyon shooting stock. Again, in my mind's eye, looking into that great big hole in the ground I imagined a softer image, with lots of color that wasn't there, lots of feeling that wasn't in my initial gaze, a mystery I would like to see outside of my head and away from the Canyon.

And I thought of the Hudson River School.

That was a nineteenth-century movement in American painting that featured the landscape as a pastoral setting, a place where man and nature lived in harmony. It was a fantasy, but a nice dream, using extreme colors and fine composition to create a mood of peace. Thomas Cole is seen as its founder but other painters like Frederic Church, Albert Bierstadt, Asher Durand, and Susie Barstow were also prominent. Cole's work at the National Gallery in Washington has moved me often in my journeys there, particularly his Voyage of Life. These artists were not plein air artists, painting outdoors, using nature as a firm template. They mixed and matched ideas, creating landscapes out of whole cloth, taking a little of this mountain and a little of that river, then maybe throwing in a house or a human. They were not painting what was exactly in front of them. They were trying to make a point but also trying to make magic. When I've seen these enormous canvases in real life, they've awed me, made me speechless, which for those of you know know me, is not any easy thing to do.

So staring at the Grand Canyon, I saw a loose template for me to create something emotional, soft, colorful and new, or at least new to me.

[Art Critique: I looked up Hudson River School of Photography on the internet and found a group of dudes. Bros really. They were taking their landscape shots, sharpening the shit of them with HDR and who knows fucking what and they all seemed very proud of themselves. That's a bit unfair, and for those of you photogs who see yourself in this artistic vane and are humble about it I apologize. But these guys really like what they are doing, which is nothing new or meaning at all in my eyes. Sharp as a razor images with slighted popped color and no soul. BFD. You see this a lot in photography these days. Bottom line: This ain't Hudson River School. This is Bro River School. End of critique.]

However...

I like the idea of the true old intention of the Hudson River School (and if you ain't got intention in your art making, you ain't making art. Sorry bro.) But I can't use Hudson River School in the names of my photographs because of these guys. So I thought Santa Cruz River School, named after the mostly-dry river in Tucson. Nah. Don't feel right.

Then I remembered what I thought at the Canyon. I was standing, shooting and praying at Lipan Point, one of my most powerful spiritual and artistic spots on the planet, which I've visited dozens of times over the decades. I looked down at the Colorado River as it made the big turn, coming down from the north then flowing west and I thought, "Colorado River School. I like that. But it's a bit pretentious."

Two days later, I got over that. It's a nice name.

Colorado River School it is.

So off we go. Hope you dig the magic I'm trying to make here. Often times I fail, but from time to time, it works.

One thing I learned in Art School at Carolina from Mike Cindric is we need to keep making stuff, throwing pots, making sculpture, painting paintings, shooting photographs, weaving tapestries, writing books, singing songs, etc.. Keep at it. Don't stop. If you're going to be a successful artist, you make stuff everyday. It's the job. A good job emotionally and spiritually, perhaps financially not so much at times, but it's good work. Really good work. And from the work comes results. Just like from any other kind of committed effort. Eventually you make The Good Shit.

When in art critiques at Carolina, when I made something that was successful, Cindric and the other students would say, "It works."

True in 1977. True in 2020.

I pray these pieces work too. Sometimes they will. Sometimes they won't. But I'll keep making the stuff. Everyday.

And hoping to make for The Good Shit.

Posted at 01:13 PM in Alexa McColl Smith Jenks, Arizona, Art, Brownie 127s, Canyons, Colorado River School, Current Affairs, Emotions, Family, Metaphysics, Mexico, Stu Jenks, The Border, The Sky, The West, Tucson, Valleys | Permalink | Comments (0)

January 02, 2019

Two things I resolve to do in 2019...

Two things I resolve to do in 2019.

Stay sober. Stay alive.

Other things are of course important in my life: gainful employment, producing more income so I can support myself and my family; gradually getting out of the hole of debt; being sweet and loving to my beautiful wife; continue to make art, music and books; being kind and compassionate to my friends and family and even to those I do not like; being of service to my community and to the world; bringing social justice to my country, in my own small ways.

But without breath in my lungs, a heartbeat in my chest, and a head clear of mood-altering chemicals, none of the above is possible.

Stay sober. Stay alive.

It's really that simple sometimes.

"The Rev. Dr. William Barber II of the Poor People's Campaign, during the Watch Night Revival, Dec. 31st, 2018, at Pullen Baptist Church, in Raleigh, North Carolina" (c) 2018, 2019 Stu Jenks and The Poor People's Campaign.

Posted at 11:04 PM in Ancestors, Angel/Ghosts, Arizona, Art, Birds, Black & White Photography, Books, Canyons, Christmas and Winter Solstice, Churches, Civil Rights, Death, Earth Spirals, Emotions, Faith, Fezziwig Press, Fiction, Flora & Fauna, Forgiveness, Fun Facts, Good Folk, History, Love, Memoirs, Metaphysics, Money, Mountains, Nature, Nocturnal Photography, North Carolina, Photography, Politics, Raleigh, Religion, Science, Sepia, Sickness & Health, Snow, Spirituality, Stones, The Moon, The Poor, The Sky, The South, Travel, Trees, University Of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, Virginia, Water, Women | Permalink | Comments (0)

June 26, 2018

"A Chair in the Wilderness" is coming...

Above image: "Pamela's Baby Rocking Chair, After The Flood, Sonoran Desert National Monument, Arizona" (c) Stu Jenks 2018

A Chair in the Wilderness, my 15th book, is coming. Like my previous tomes, there will be semi-iconic photographs of rocking chairs and such, but unlike my other books, this one will be purposefully funny. And political. And spiritual. And a little sad. But witty and funny is what we are going for, like a dark chuckle in the night from a wounded man while the civilized world burns. Fun stuff. Trump stuff. Good times.

The dedication for ACITW is probably going to be a quote from my good friend Karen Hardy from the Northern Neck of Virginia. We were talking on the phone a while back, mostly about how her mother Victoria was doing, when, as I recall, I talked about how I perhaps cared too much regarding what other people think of me, and that I'm more than a little sensitive to art criticism from strangers on the internet.

Then Karen spoke this chestnut:

"They talked about Jesus Christ, Stu. They are going to talk about you and me, too."

Look for A Chair in the Wilderness before Christmas, wherever you buy your books.

Love you guys,

Stu.

(P.S. below are some images from the past couple of months and some older ones. If you have an questions, don't hesitate to call. Or email. Or tweet. Or message me. Or heaven forbid, talk to me, face to face, like they used to do back In Olden Days. Don't lose hope, y'all. Resist.)

Posted at 09:47 PM in Ancestors, Arizona, Art, Babies, Black & White Photography, Books, Business, California, Canyons, Current Affairs, Dying, Emotions, Fezziwig Press, Forgiveness, Good Folk, Grand Canyon, Home, Hope, Humor, Love, Medium Format, Metaphysics, My Grandmother Nannie's Mirror, Nannie's Mirror, National Parks, Nature, Night Photography, Nocturnal Photography, Oklahoma, Politics, Prairies, Prayer Towers, Rivers, Rocks, Spirituality, Stars, Stu Jenks, The Arizona Trail, The Border, The Road, The Sky, Tucson, Valleys | Permalink | Comments (0)

July 09, 2013

Pamela's Baby Rocking Chair (The Deaths Of Pamela and Mary Jenks), is now for sale.

Pamela's Baby Rocking Chair (The Deaths of Pamela and Mary Jenks), the book, is now for sale.

Here's how you can purchase it.

1) Within a few days, the PBRC book, will be at Tucson Touch Therapies here in Tucson, at the northeast corner of Alvernon and Pima.

2) Or make an appointment by emailing me at [email protected] and you can purchase one at my studio, here in Tucson, at 549 N. 7th Ave. $24.95 plus sales tax. $26.97 total.

3) Or I can Priority Mail you a copy. I take checks. I take Paypal (log into my Paypal account using my email address.) I take Square. I take cash. I take tamales. Really. A dozen tamales gets you a book. Just email me at [email protected] or log into my Paypal or Facebook me with your address, method of payment, etc. $24.95 plus sales tax if you are local. No sales taxes outside of Tucson and Arizona. And I ship everything Priority Mail so add $6.95 to your order. One to three books will be just $6.95 shipping. Four or more, it'll be more. Total, in Tucson: 33.92 Priority. Total, outside of Tucson: $31.90 Priority.

4) Or find me on the street. I'll have a box of books in the truck of Mary's Buick for a few weeks at least.

The books look great. They smell good too like new books do.

And for those of you who have pre-ordered the PBRC book, I'm heading to the post office in about an hour. Look for them in your mailbox in the next day or three.

Thanks, y'all. For everything.

Love and light,

Stu Jenks and Team Fezziwig.

Posted at 11:27 AM in Arizona, Art, Books, Cancer, Dementia, Dying, Emotions, Family, Fezziwig Press, Forgiveness, Metaphysics, Nocturnal Photography, North Carolina, Pamela's Baby Rocking Chair, Photography, Raleigh, Women | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

November 01, 2012

Step Zero by Stu Jenks is launched...

(Author Photo by Jeff Smith at www.jeffsmithusa.com

Step Zero, the novel, has been launched.

So where can you buy it?

For those of you with tablets and digital devices, you can buy Step Zero as an iBook from the Apple store, for your iPad and iPhone, or you can obtain it as an ebook for your Amazon Kindle device, via this link. (The Nook version is pending.) You can also purchase the soft-cover first editions at the Barnes and Noble online store and at the Fezziwig Press online store. And locally, you can obtain the soft-cover book at Tucson Touch Therapies at Pima and Alvernon and at Betty Blue's Junk Shop on South Plumer. Lastly, on, Saturday, November 10th, 2012, from Noon to 5 p.m., I'll be at my studio at 549 N. 7th Avenue, for an imformal book signing, in conjunction with the Tucson Open Studio Tour.

And as a special free treat to those who buy Step Zero, I'll send you a pdf of The Lost Images of Step Zero, a hundred plus images that didn't make the final edit, but are a nice adjunct to the Step Zero experience, whatever that means. Just send me a Facebook message or an email at [email protected] and I'll send the PDF right to you.

So push those buttons and buy those books, boys and girls, for baby needs a new pair of shoes.

From The Lost Images Of Steps Zero PDF:

Top to bottom, "A Rose For Chessie, California", "Matt Antone's Ginger, Arizona", "The 41 Nights, Arizona", and "Michael and Chessie's Moon, California".

Cover design by Gail Cross of Desert Isle Designs. Cover photograph by Stu Jenks.

Posted at 04:17 AM in 12 Step Fiction, Ancestors, Angel/Ghosts, Arizona, Books, Cactus, California, Death, Dementia, Dying, eBooks, Emotions, Family, Fezziwig Press, Fiction, Forgiveness, Grief and Loss, Horses, Love, Metaphysics, Oceans, Railroads, San Francisco, Sex, Sexuality, Spirituality, Step Zero: A Sober Love Story in 2076, The West, Trains | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

March 26, 2012

All 8 1/2" x 11" A/P archival pigment prints by Stu Jenks for $25, shipping, handling and taxes included...

Image: "Queen Esther Baptist Church, Lancaster, Virginia" (c) 2011 Stu Jenks (Just down River Road from Victoria's house. Love that luscious red carpet. And for you nocturnals out there, it was handheld. Rare for me.)

In this time of making photos on iPhones and Macbook Pros and only looking on screens, I forget I'm a old-school guy. I make a 8 1/2 x 11 work print on archival paper of EVERY image I make. EVERY one. It's the only way, for me, to accurately check for color shift, density, composition, etc. I really like my iPad screen but it's no way to make a good print.

And I have hundreds, if not thousands, of work prints artist proofs at my studio.

If you see an image of mine on The StuBlog or on my old website or on the Fezziwig Press Store or in any of my books, there's a beautiful small print in a box somewhere, perhaps with your name on it. And since I'm organized, I can find it.

Many of you can't afford my larger prints. I understand. I don't have an extra 50 or 100 lying around either. But I do have an extra $20 for stuff I really like.

So if you see an image of mine on any of my sites or in any of my books and you want it, it's yours for $25, shipping, handling and tax included. (I believe in paying taxes, sales and otherwise.)

Just email me at my facebook page or through the StuBlog or at [email protected], and tell me what print you would like or just pull the jpeg and send that to me.

I was just watching the Tarhells lose today in basketball, working on images at my computer when I thought, 'I bet people don't realize I have boxes of work prints here.'

You all do now.

Love and light,

Stu

p.s. Ignore the catagories belows. The computer went wacky. Another reason why I prefer a print in the hand as opposed to an image in The Cloud.

Posted at 04:58 AM in Astronomy, Atlanta, Birds, Bisbee, Canada, Death, Dementia, Dying, Eastern Religions, Emotions, Film, Flame Spirals, Good Folk, Grand Canyon, History, Illinois, Love, Metaphysics, Meteorites, Money, National Parks, Nature, Nocturnal Photography, Oklahoma, On The Rez, Other Artists, Paintings, Photography, Politics, Railroads, Rainbows, Sand, Science, Sculpture, Sex, Shamanic Breathwork, Sickness & Health, Snow, Space, Sports, Surfing, Swamps, Texas, The West, Tucson, United Kingdom, University Of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, Virginia, War, Wyoming | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

February 26, 2012

...The first draft of the novel is done!!!...

The first draft of the novel is done!!! It came in at 149,000 words, 552 pages in my document. Yeaaaa! I can't tell you how good it feels. The ending made me cry, as I hope it does you. (Last word in the novel, which won't change in revision: Sighs.) I want to jump right back to the beginning and start revisions, but Mary Ann suggests I take more than just a couple days off. OK. I'll take off three or four days. LOL. But then it's fixing this and revising that, then off to the editors. And I have ideas for the next novel in this series, too. I have some pretty great characters, I think, and I want to see what they will do next. But first things first. Get this novel to print.

One serious note: It took about a year to write this novel, but it almost didn't get done. With Mary and Pamela dying and all, I didn't work on it for about six weeks and it was so hard to get my momentum back. But I did. But it was difficult. If you are working on a novel or a large work, I recommend you plow through, even if the field is frozen. I've been told I'm very lucky to have gotten back on track.

Speaking of track, good luck to Danica Patrick tomorrow in the Daytona 500 and in the rest of Sprint Cup and Nationwide races this season. I might just have to go up to PHX next Saturday to watch her race.

By the way, did I mention I finished the freaking first draft of the novel?

Yeaaaaaaaaa!

Posted at 02:05 PM in Angel/Ghosts, Arizona, Cactus, California, Churches, Coffee, Death, Dementia, Deserts, Dying, Emotions, Faith, Family, Fiction, Fire, Forgiveness, Good Folk, Grief and Loss, Horses, Humor, Los Angeles, Love, Metaphysics, Money, Murder, Music, Native People, On The Rez, People, Politics, Railroads, Rocks, San Francisco, Sex, Sickness & Health, Spirituality, Surfing, The Poor, The Sky, The West, Trains, Travel, Tucson, Valleys, War, Washington, DC, Women | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)

December 08, 2011

Now available, on the Apple IPad: The Transpersonal Papers (1861-2010) and Bozo In Love

Been a long time coming for The Transpersonal Papers (1861-2010).

Three editors, two proofreaders, two designers, four printers, and hours, days, weeks, months, years, lifetimes, (I know I'm overstating), of writing, traveling, shooting, editing, remembering, hiking, and more writing, shooting, and editing, but I'm not complaining. No, no, no.

And apologies for not having the dough right now, to print The Transpersonal Papers as a coffee-table book as I had originally planned. ($10,000, it would have cost. Maybe someday.) But you now can buy it, for $14.95, as an Ebook on the Apple IPad, and I expect it to be available within a couple days on the Nook and the Kindle as well.

I just looked at it on my new IPad. The photos, text and design look grand.

And as an extra surprise, Bozo In Love is now up on IBooks too, ($9.95), as well as the rest of my catalog: Flame Spirals, Hoop Dancing, and Dementia Blues, on IBooks, Nook and Kindle.

Just in time for Christmas.

And don't worry. All but The Transpersonal Papers can still be bought as a book book through Fezziwig Press. I have plenty. Just go to www.fezziwigpressonline.com, for the hardbounds and paperbacks, but go to ITunes, today, (and Kindle and Nook, soon) for the ebooks.

Heavy sigh from my third story apartment balcony. I look out onto the Tucson city lights in the valley below. Cold, dry air embraces me. I inhale deeply. Exhale.

A very good night in the desert.

Think I'll make a cup of coffee with egg nog and play some Angry Birds on my new IPad.

Time to celebrate.

Posted at 12:10 AM in Ancestors, Astronomy, Birds, Black & White Photography, Buddhism, Buildings, Cactus, Cattle, Civil Rights, Death, Deserts, Eastern Religions, Family, Film, Flame Spirals, Flora & Fauna, Forgiveness, Georgia, Grand Canyon, Immigrants, Infrared Photography, Louisiana, Megaliths, Metaphysics, Mississippi, Money, National Parks, Nevada, Nocturnal Photography, North Carolina, Other Writers, Paintings, Photography, Poetry, Rainbows, Science, Scotland, Sex, Sickness & Health, Stones, Surfing, Tennessee, The American Civil War, The Four Directions, The Indian Wars, The West, Trees, United Kingdom, Utah, Women | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)

March 10, 2011

"The Great Gallery of Horseshoe Canyon"

[Remember: You can click on any images on the StuBlog and enlarge them.]

    A coyote howls somewhere down there. I’ve pitched my tent but it may be warmer just to sleep in the truck. I’ve never seen so many stars.
    I figure I’m as far away from any living human being as I’ve ever been in my entire life. The pavement of Utah 24 is over 35 miles away. The nearest town is around 50, the campground at Goblin Valley around 45 or so. And to the East and South, there is nothing for 70 to 100 miles. (Good nothing, but still nothing.) I don’t usually get spooked in the wilderness at night but I am tonight. I’m a long ways away from anybody and if I get hurt, it’s going to be just me, me and me. Now, I don’t plan to hike any slot canyons tomorrow so the risk of getting my arm caught under a rock like Aron Ralston is slim, but I could sprain an ankle or big rains or snow might come. Bo calls it The Rule Of Two: I’m allowed one bad thing to happen but if two happen, I’m screwed. My major concern is the weather. If it rains or snows, the soft dirt road I drove in on this afternoon will be a ribbon of mud. I do have two new tires on the Pathfinder but you know what they say about four-wheel-drive: It just allows you to get stuck farther away.
    I watch The Kids Are All Right on my MacBook Pro, and eat some cashews and string cheese. I hit the hay early. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.

    I’m up. I had a hell of a time sleeping. It was so cold last night. I like cold weather but I like warm rooms too. I have no such room, unless you count my truck idling with the heater on.
    No coffee this morning. Just strike the tent, and load up the gear. No tripod. It’s just too long a hike, in and out, up and down to carry it. Long and wide lens, water, Rollei, and the 5D Mark II and I’m good to go. I’ll eat when I get back.
    It’s about 800 feet to the valley floor, then another three to four miles or so. Around eight miles round trip. Not a long hike but with all this gear, I’m feeling it after just the first mile.
    The air nibbles at me. Doesn’t bite. No wind. Just a pleasant cold slap to the face. A chipmunk screams at me. He just wants some breakfast, not some big human breaking his routine.
    The path is easy, being an abandoned road that descends to the valley floor. Seems there was some exploratory mining here a hundred years ago. That’s how they found the pictographs. Probably why they are so well preserved, they being literally in the middle of nowhere. Really. This section of Utah was known as The Blank Spot, the last place in the lower 48 to be explored and surveyed. On maps, over a hundred years ago, it was a blank spot on the map. Just white paper.
    On the valley floor now. There is water but much of the stream is frozen. That’s a first. I’ve never hiked on a frozen stream in the Canyonlands before. Wonder if this water flows year round?
    And then, I stop thinking all together. It’s a good thing. Partly age, partly spiritual practice, I often hike for miles and don’t think a single thought. I just see and listen and smell and breathe and walk. Only time I think is when I bring my camera to my eye and think ‘Should I shoot at f11 or f16, or ISO 125, 400 or 3200?’ These thoughts last until I have answered the question and taken the shot, and then it’s back to nothingness again.
    When I was a toddler, my parents thought I was retarded, for I hardly spoke at all. I would just stare out at the world with a blank look on my face. Some things haven’t changed.
    The hikers from yesterday said I couldn’t miss them. I’ve already missed the first pictographs I think. That’s OK. I came for The Great Gallery.
    So on I walk. Water, rock, color. Water, tree, look. Water, walk, rock. Water, rock, color. Pretty much my thoughts.
    I round a corner and then I think I see something. Could be them.
    I walk toward the sandstone wall.
    “Wow,” is all I say.
    I unload the cameras and get to work. I work for about an hour.

    Afterwards, I just stare at the walls. I’ve capture some images but I know that you never really capture a place with flat images. 2D can never capture 3D, no matter what they say. You have to be in a place to know it, to feel it, to smell, to see it. The 2D does give you a sense of the space, but only an aroma. Like the smell of baking cookies is not the eating of the cookies. The smell is a thing, a real thing, but it isn’t the thing.
    So I just stand and take in the 3D of The Great Gallery into the 3D of my body and soul. I believe my soul is three dimensional or perhaps four dimensional. 3D plus time. Or maybe 11 dimensions like the quantum physicists say there are. 4D plus soul plus a constant plus gravity plus a bunch of unknowns like heart and God and spirit.
    After a few minutes of flying between worlds, I notice something. All of the figures of The Great Gallery appear to have been painted by different hands, different artists.     And then I have a few thoughts. I think I know what these figures might be.
    These are the paintings of the leaders of the tribe, much like the marble and bronze statues of Lincoln and Washington and Robert E. Lee and Caesar Augustus. And are these stylized paintings of women or men, or perhaps both? Many native tribes today are matriarchal as well as patriarchal. Maybe the chiefs and chieftesses of this clan all had ornate robes to signify their rank. Sure looks like they wore their fineries for these paintings. And maybe, just maybe there was some sexual equality in these tribes. Maybe. Nice to think so, but who knows. But definitely, all these pictographs were painted by different people, in slightly different styles, at different times. Definitely.
    Some in the Woo-Woo community (in which I still have my membership card) suggest that these are pictures of extraterrestrials. I think not, nor do I think that Picasso’s later work was painted by someone with brain damage. It was Pablo’s funky style just as these paintings were the Archaic People’s style of representation. No, the ancient people were just as creative as we are now, perhaps more so. No. I think these are paintings honoring the brave and the powerful and the healers and the protectors. They are of good strong men and women. They were the leaders of The People. But given that these pictographs are over 3000-4000 years ago and all we have of these people is what I’m looking at right now, my guess is a good as yours. But I think it’s a good guess.
    I continue staring at the walls, at the figures, and then stop thinking so hard and fall into the space again.
    Robe, red, jewelry. White, red, water. Wall, sky, paint. Sky, paint, wall.

The hike out isn’t easy, but it isn’t that hard either. It just is what it is. A bit of a trudge. But a hell of a good slog past cottonwood trees and below high sandstone faces.

    Rain clouds to the right and left, virga almost making it to the ground. Others directions, I see rain falling all the way down to the ground. The soft dirt road passes underneath my Pathfinder and I. About 25 miles to go. I just might split those two storms if I’m lucky. I just might get out of here before it rains.
    And I do.
    Back at Utah State Route 24. I back up to disengage the four-wheel-drive. I get out and check my tires. All’s good.
    I consider kissing the asphalt of the state road but decide to just thank the road in my own quiet way.
    “Thanks,” I whisper, and off I go, heading south toward Capitol Reef.