Another benefit from living in Utah is we can tag along on family gatherings without having to buy a plane ticket or take time off from work. Richard goes to Fish Creek faithfully… probably once a year, but it has always meant that he leaves our family behind.
Well, not this year. The kids and I were able to go this weekend. I have been to Fish Creek a few times before, but Mark and Timothy had never been. It’s pretty much a land of enchantment. Let me tell you what I mean.
Fish Creek is the only place in the universe where we ride in the back of a pickup truck. I told Mark that it’s the only place he will ever be allowed to do this, even after he becomes an adult. Some rules just have to remain eternal or I won’t be able to sleep at night.
Fish Creek is the only place in which we use the pronunciation, “crick”.
Fish Creek (are you saying “crick” in your mind?) is the only place where I loosen up enough to ride a motorcycle.
Fish Creek is a place where you fit 16 people and two dogs in a pickup truck. You eat fried chicken, cheese curds from Beaver, eggs from the Russ and Nancy farm, and licorice in all its varieties.
It’s history, it’s cousins, it’s dirt roads and mining cabins, leaves changing color, big sky and peace. We had a great time.
And here is the outtake of the day:
Here’s a closeup of the best part. I call it “Sparky’s worldview.”
