Last Sunday, I grabbed my journal, my scriptures and a hot chocolate and headed for the mountains. The clouds were hanging low that day and being alone I thought it best to stay close so I drove up to the Squaw Peak overlook. Provo canyon is gorgeous anytime, but really outdoes itself in the fall.
I sat on the little rock wall writing for a while, trying to ignore the anti Mormon radio station blaring from the truck next to me until the rain really started to come down and I was forced to sit in my car. After my hand was too cramped to keep writing I drove up the dirt road toward Hope campground listening to The National and M83 along the way until I made my way back home.
This quick trip was everything I needed and more. I absolutely love the mountains; at times I even crave them. They are my place for solace and peace and I am so grateful to live in a state where I am surrounded by them.
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