AWE -- FULL
The Valley of the Moon
It was late October when I parked the trailer in Benson, Arizona. Benson is a town of 4700 in the southeast corner of the state. I was returning from an evening drive and was traveling north along the west side of the San Pedro Valley.
As I looked east, the full moon rose above the peaks of the Dragoon Mountains. It hung in a blue sky in the middle of a glowing pink band. The valley floor was awash in a blue-gray and pink blush. Scattered on the basin floor were small pin points of light where ranch and house lights had started to flicker on. The view was breath-taking.
I pulled to the side of the road at least four times to take photos. Even as I panned the camera from north to south I knew the images would never convey even a part of what I was seeing or feeling.
The scene was one from a fantasy novel wherein exists a hidden valley of perpetual twilight. I had thoughts of James Hilton’s Shangri-La. I called the picture before me: The Valley of The Moon.
The feeling that accompanied this panorama left me speechless. This mystical scene had evoked a deep, warm feeling inside me – a great sense of awe. I wanted to say something but there were no words that seemed appropriate. Even the word “awesome” was inadequate; “awe full” was closer in meaning.
Late in November I was describing The Valley of the Moon to Carol, my hostess, at the Arizona Cactus and Succulent Research Center. I was trying to recount the feeling that had overcome me. Before I finished my description, she interrupted and said, “You met God.”
A few days after talking to Carol I was taking a two-hour hike into French Joe Canyon. At the end of the trail I met a young couple from the Fort Huachuca army base. They were exploring and offered me water. The three of us climbed an embankment and looked at the surrounding mountains. There was silence. Then the young woman said, “I feel like screaming!” I understood. It was her reaction to the overwhelming scene that Nature had set before us. It was a wordless moment. An awe-full moment. She, too, had met God.
"And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man;"
William Wordsworth
Tintern Abbey
July 13, 1798
It was late October when I parked the trailer in Benson, Arizona. Benson is a town of 4700 in the southeast corner of the state. I was returning from an evening drive and was traveling north along the west side of the San Pedro Valley.
As I looked east, the full moon rose above the peaks of the Dragoon Mountains. It hung in a blue sky in the middle of a glowing pink band. The valley floor was awash in a blue-gray and pink blush. Scattered on the basin floor were small pin points of light where ranch and house lights had started to flicker on. The view was breath-taking.
I pulled to the side of the road at least four times to take photos. Even as I panned the camera from north to south I knew the images would never convey even a part of what I was seeing or feeling.
The scene was one from a fantasy novel wherein exists a hidden valley of perpetual twilight. I had thoughts of James Hilton’s Shangri-La. I called the picture before me: The Valley of The Moon.
The feeling that accompanied this panorama left me speechless. This mystical scene had evoked a deep, warm feeling inside me – a great sense of awe. I wanted to say something but there were no words that seemed appropriate. Even the word “awesome” was inadequate; “awe full” was closer in meaning.
Late in November I was describing The Valley of the Moon to Carol, my hostess, at the Arizona Cactus and Succulent Research Center. I was trying to recount the feeling that had overcome me. Before I finished my description, she interrupted and said, “You met God.”
A few days after talking to Carol I was taking a two-hour hike into French Joe Canyon. At the end of the trail I met a young couple from the Fort Huachuca army base. They were exploring and offered me water. The three of us climbed an embankment and looked at the surrounding mountains. There was silence. Then the young woman said, “I feel like screaming!” I understood. It was her reaction to the overwhelming scene that Nature had set before us. It was a wordless moment. An awe-full moment. She, too, had met God.
"And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man;"
William Wordsworth
Tintern Abbey
July 13, 1798
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