Welcome back to New York

Last July, I wrote a short blog post on my phone from a hotel room in Niagara Falls, NY, checking in on vacation so that I don't miss a Sunday of blogging.

Well, this time it's a hotel room in Plymouth, MA. My family left NYC this morning and drove through Connecticut and Rhode Island before stopping this evening. I will give a full update next week.

Lots of places in Rhode Island had the name of Melville.

Quilted Southern

(NOTE: Look, I really didn't want to use a toilet paper reference for my title, but my alternatives weren't any better. Like "Kane-ing Garfield and a Beaver" or "Gar and Rich Fields.")

As I continue to work toward my bucket list of visiting all the counties and all the county seats before I turn 30, it has come to the point where I need to work harder at it. I set apart this weekend to visit two new counties and six new (or "new") county seats.

I invited some people to go with me, but they couldn't go with. Then I invited some others, and they gave me vague, noncommittal answers, I think because they didn't want to go. I can understand that, but an actual "no" would have been better. And then there are lots of people I didn't invite because I go through a lot of mental anguish extending invitations.

So, instead, I took my mom with me. We headed out on Friday for this quick county seat tour.

First we stopped in Fillmore, the seat of Millard County. I've been going to Fillmore my whole life, but this was the first time I'd been since I've been 29. We drove past the house where my grandparents lived. The roof and shutters aren't red anymore, but otherwise it looks the same. I can still picture the layout of the house, even though I haven't been there since 2007. We also stopped at various convenience stores so I could find a Bomb Pop.

Then we drove down to Beaver, the seat of Beaver County, to stay for the night. We got one of the last hotel rooms because there was some Little League tournament. I did not sleep well.

On Saturday morning, we drove down to Panguitch, the seat of Garfield County. While I had already been in Millard and Beaver Counties this year, Garfield was new. Panguitch was actually the main draw of this trip and the reason I went when I did.

In 1864, a few men were sent to gather supplies for their fledgling new community of Panguitch after a poor growing season. On their return, impassable mountains made them leave their wagons behind. They traveled by foot, but they kept sinking in the snow. So, desperate, they spread out a quilt and knelt and prayed. As they prayed, they realized they weren't sinking in the snow on their quilt. So they were able to walk across the mountain on their quilts (one version I heard is that they walked on their knees on the quilts) and save their town. So now, every June, Panguitch has a quilt festival. I figured if I was going to go to Panguitch, this was the time to do it.

We went to Panguitch High School, where the quilts were on display. I'm impressed with that form of artwork. I don't think I'd have the patience for it. There were a couple of quilts that told the story of the quilts.

 There were a few quilting vendors there. I bought some holiday candy-themed materials to make pillowcases.

If I had realized the Christmas one had a few eight-pointed snowflakes on it, that might have been a dealbreaker.

Panguitch even has a statue commemorating the story.

I had a few ancestors in Panguitch, but I don't know much (anything) about them. I even went to the Panguitch Cemetery to find them, but they weren't there. (There was a flood there in 1900 that washed away some of the headstones. Maybe that's what happened?)

Since I was already as far south as Panguitch, I went down to Kanab, the seat of Kane County. We ate lunch and went to the Little Hollywood Museum. Kanab was once a major location for filming westerns, back when those were a thing. So they have this free museum with random old set pieces. I wouldn't pay to go there, but it was fun for free.

The "adobe" buildings are made of fiberglass.

Scary mannequins!

Rather then head back through Beaver to go home, we went on I-70 and Highway 89 to hit a few other county seats. We went to Junction (for some reason my mom kept calling it Tropic) in Piute County and got popsicles at their general store. Then we went to Richfield in Sevier County for dinner.

It was fun! Now I have ten more counties and twelve more county seats to go. Most of them are in eastern Utah.

Of course, that isn't all I did this week. I have found that June is one of those months where I don't have time to do everything I want, so I fit it in when I can.

Since 2012 or 2013, I have made June the month when I try to eradicate goathead plants. These plants are so evil that if they were people, no one would feel bad torturing them. I have spent a few evenings pulling them. On Thursday, I pulled a few dozen tiny plants. The tiny ones are less satisfying than the big ones, but it's probably more effective than picking the big ones that have already formed seeds and spread pollen. I'm sure more plants will grow back in that patch, but if I keep coming back every June, then maybe one day they'll be gone!

One evening I went up Centerville Canyon, where I went last August. In August, I munched on a few thimbleberries, but in June, they're still blossoms.

 It was the first time I have ever seen wild mushrooms on a hike.

 It does have a nice waterfall.

But I didn't see any sego lilies in the canyon, so after coming home from the county seat tour, I had to visit the Woodbriar Trail, where there are always lots of them in June. Most of them are still in their cup shape, not their spread shape. But I love them. You know that great feeling when you see a bald eagle and want to shout "America" and sing "The Star Spangled Banner"? Well, when I see sego lilies, I want to shout "Utah!" and sing "Utah, This Is the Place." (Well, I would if I knew the song. It came out when I was in first grade, and that's the only time I've ever sung it.)

Killing myself with kindness

I think I am too nice for my own good.

Usually being nice is a good thing, but sometimes it gets in the way.

At work, I am most often stationed in the Deseret News print shop. We have a 1940s typewriter on display to show how printing has changed through time. Typed on the paper in the typewriter is "Please do not touch me. Thank you." I try to preemptively warn people, yet people still touch it. And sometimes I will catch them "typing" (there's no ink) on it, but I don't know how to tell them to stop touching it or typing on it. (One woman this week told her son not to touch it, but then she was typing on it. I went in and asked her not to touch it. She said, "I wasn't going to, but then I saw that someone else had typed on it." If she had stopped to read what "they" had typed, she would have seen the instructions!)

This week I helped out at the Native American Village, where there is a small "stream" where kids can float tiny "canoes." (Boy, I sure am using a lot of scare quotes today!) Since the water is recirculated, they are not allowed to play in it, so I had to tell them not to play in it. I had given those instructions to one group, and then a boy stepped off a rock into the water. I said, "Please don't play in the water," and he responded, "It's called an accident." But then he kept walking in a shallow portion, and I said to him, "I don't think it's an accident anymore." As they were leaving, he was walking in the water again, which in no way could be an accident. What a rotten little brat! The area's supervisor was walking by and yelled at him "Hey! Don't walk in the water!" But I can't do that! Part of it is that I can't yell. I can talk loudly when needed, but I can't yell. But I also don't know what to say without sounding like a total jerk, especially when it involves others' children.

In my linguistics courses, I learned about indirect speech ("Thank you for not smoking") and hedging. And I came to realize I hedge. A lot. That means I say things like "I think," "probably," "maybe," etc. I learned if from my dad; he hedges a lot as well. I've been trying to hedge less, but I still do.

Not that hedging is a bad thing. We do it to be polite. But it can get excessive.

Sometimes I let people walk all over me. Like that time I almost let the salesmen jerks force me into buying a red car even though I wanted blue. (Mom to the rescue!) At work last week, I was stationed in the bank, where kids can come in to have their "gold" weighed. Some kids came in right as I was about to close it. I think they were right on the cusp, so I weighed it for them. But then my coworkers helped me close and lock my doors--if I hadn't, those kids' big families would have come in for more assaying (weighing), and I would have been trapped, because I don't know if I would have told them I was closed.

When I had a Church calling as executive secretary, I helped with a new member orientation meeting in the chapel. One Sunday before the meeting, I stood at the pulpit and said to the lollygaggers in the chapel, "It's great that you're all such great friends, but we are going to have our new member meeting here, so if you could please head to Sunday School, that would be great. Thank you!" Or something like that. And one of the attendees said something about how I worded that so nicely. It wasn't a compliment. (It wasn't an insult either; mostly he was surprised.)

On my mission, I was once remarking about how I never trained anyone, and my companion said to me, "It's because you're too nice." I think that was definitely part of it.

Sometimes I think of what I would like to say to someone. Like I would tell a phone scammer, "You should use your phone or technological abilities to good use instead of trying to scam people. As it currently stands, the world would be better off without you." Or I imagine going to a store and telling an irate customer a certain violent poem. But I don't think I could bring myself to actually do those things.

However, a few months ago, I was at a Taco Time, where I thought a customer was being very rude to the employees. I did call him out on it, but he said he knew the employees, so that made it OK. I still don't know what to think about that incident.

But anyway. This is something I need to work on. Not being too nice to the point where it causes trouble for myself.

Friends, mules, countrymen, lend me your ears.

I have been actively crossing things off of my bucket list. This week it was Spiral Jetty!

Um, I don't really know what to say about it. I had the day off on Thursday, so after my mom and sister got off of work, we picked up my niece and all drove up to Box Elder County to see the spiral. It was fifteen miles past Golden Spike on a gravel road.

It was smaller than I expected, but I was glad, because it meant I could see all of it. I worried it would be much larger and it would be hard to tell what it was.

I ran up a nearby hill for a better view.

 I was glad it was dried out so I could walk on it. I followed it the entire spiral.

An olivine-rich basalt rock!

 Though it was mostly dry, there were a few salty puddles. I ate a piece of the salt. It was salty.

I like the spiral design on the interpretive sign.

I accidentally stepped in a salty puddle. Good thing I retired these running shoes!

Then we ate dinner in Brigham City, because I've never been there, and it would be nice to visit all the county seats.

The rest of the week wasn't super eventful. Except that mulesears are out in full abundance. Last week I said, "Give it a week or two, and this meadow will be jaw-droppingly fabulous." And I was absolutely right.

I think this is Wasatch penstemon.

I couldn't get away from mulesears if I wanted to.

Of course, we can't forget our old friend Sticky Geranium.

Such beauty from arrowleaf balsamroot, common paintbrush, and penstemon. I can't even.

Arrowleaf balsamroot on the left and mulesears on the right. 🎵"But they're cousins, identical cousins all the way! One pair of matching bookends, different as night and day."🎶

Can something this pretty really be a noxious weed?

It sure was nice of all those mules to donate their ears to the foothills.

I don't really get a Memorial Day weekend, since I have to work. It will be the first time I have ever worked on Memorial Day. But it should be a fun day. This is one of my favorite weekends of the year (after Thanksgiving, of course).

Flowers and kittens🌼😻

I had some plans to go see some great new trails and places this week, but various circumstances prevented that from happening.

However, I did go to BYU on Thursday for an interview. It's a little strange to walk on campus and realize that my most recent memory there as a student was more than four years ago, and some memories go back eight years. I would say it was my first time there with a beard, but that's not true: I sported a beard for my two-week field studies class in 2013, and I had one a couple weeks after I graduated (but still lived in Provo). I stopped at the Provo City Center Temple, my first time there (though I did attend a concert in the Provo Tabernacle in 2010).

Provo certainly isn't that exotic, but the beauty of May can make me think, "Am I still in Utah?!" Even if I'm in my regular places.

This is along the Bonneville Shoreline Trail in North Salt Lake before the radio towers. There's an entire field of Palmer's penstemon. This flower is stunning not only for the way it covers a meadow, but also for the strong, lovely fragrance wafting in the air.

 It's especially stunning when arrowleaf balsamroot mixes with it.

Purple Palmer's penstemon and yellow yarrowleaf yalsamroot.

 There are frequently people taking engagement or family pictures along the trail, and on this evening I counted at least six groups. It was a lovely evening for it. One of my pet peeves with that is when the photographer is on one side of the trail, and the couple is on the other side. Why don't you both get on the same side, then people won't be cutting through? There was none of that this time, but there was one photog taking pictures of the couple walking along the trail, and she asked me and a hiker to hold on while she took her shots. I'll admit I was annoyed.

Even ugly vacant lots are lovely in May.

At work, I have seen a feral black cat on a few occasions. This week, some other employees told me that the cat had three kittens. You all know how I feel about cats, so I had to take a look. They thought the kittens might be half bobcat, but that seems like a stretch to me. Usually two of the kittens hang out with their mom, while a third hides in the shrubs, but I think it's a different kitten hiding each time I've looked. It was tempting to pick one up, but I didn't want to terrify them; they were already hissing at me. There's something hilariously adorable about a tiny kitten trying to be ferocious.

You can see three sets of eyes in this picture.

One of my favorite trails when I don't have much time is the local Woodbriar Trail, because it's very steep, so it's good exercise in a short amount of time. It's less popular, but it is stunningly beautiful. It has its share of arrowleaf balsamroot now,

 as well as western waterleaf,  tufted evening primrose, and Utah sweetpea.

 Arrowleaf balsamroot's doppelganger, mulesears, are starting to make their appearance. Give it a week or two, and this meadow will be jaw-droppingly fabulous.

On Friday night, I ran up to my old standby of North Canyon. It's been a while since I've done an evening run there, and it was actually the first time I've ever made it all the way to Rudy's Flat in the evening. It had its share of Oregon grape,

 another look-alike to arrowleaf balsamroot that I haven't identified,

 arrowleaf balsamroot itself,

 blossoming trees I haven't identified,

 smallflower woodlandstar,

Sorry for the bluriness.

 caterpillars,

Morning runs are more convenient, but evening runs are more beautiful.

 mountain bluebell,

 and heartleaf arnica.

These are blossoms on an apple tree at the actual trailhead (not the dirt road).

I have less than two weeks left in May, so I hope to enjoy more of it while I have it.