time in Yuma

The last weekend in February is here, and I’m in Yuma, Arizona. Friday was the start of a new acquisition for work, and instead of driving all the way home only to return on Monday, I decided to stay over the weekend.

Yuma was Grandpa Leo’s snowbird home to get away from the harsh Utah winters. I use this time to feel his spirit and get to know more about this area. I start by exploring the wetlands on my bike.

Sprung from the mighty Colorado river, the Yuma wetlands are an oasis filled with wildlife and trails for walking, biking or horseback riding. After riding from West to East, I find a paved trail which follows a canal through town. Total of thirteen odd miles completed.

After my morning ride, my famished body needs brunch. I find the old Yuma Landing, a historic hotel and restaurant that is filled with eclectic antiques and aviation history. The food is no nonsense, but immensely satisfying.

With a full belly, I decide to head out into the desert to wander.

In the wintertime, you won’t find creatures scurrying about in the sand and on the rocks. You only find yourself in the sparse open. Some may find it barren and ugly, but not I.

Leaving the desert, I think I see a pyramid on the horizon. At first I believe my eyes may be playing tricks on me, but in the deep recesses of my mind I am reminded that I’ve seen this image before.

I go closer to the Center of the World. I plan on returning early Sunday morning to watch the sunrise over this unique place on the California/Arizona border.

The church on the hill starts to glow in the early morning light. I think of another place that seems similar, the Gilgal garden in Salt Lake City. The strange energy around here has the hairs on my arms standing erect.

It’s too early for the place to be open, which is fine by me, as I didn’t really want to pay the entrance fee anyway. I skirt around the edges of this little town, and wonder why people build places such as this. Do they really feel a special energy and want others to relish in the aura as well? Or is it just a trap for tourists to spend their hard earned dollars?

I suppose, just like religion, politics, or anything else really, you choose how you want to spend your dollars just like you choose your belief systems.

It’s that type of free agency that is supposed to make this country great, right?

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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