It's Wednesday night, late. I have been setting up my Sound Blaster sound card on my computer. In fact, at this very moment I'm typing my journal entry while being serenaded by a chorus of classical music played by the computer. Linda has been out doing some shopping. I've been home alone with the children tonight. The kids have been playing downstairs where I am working. They play together very well for the most part--disagreements are resolved quickly--and laughter is plentiful. Alyssa is asleep in one arm, and I am typing with my free hand.
Alyssa Robyn Stucki just had her one-year birthday near the first of this month (May 6). She's growing up so quickly now--crawling and climbing everywhere and walking with just a little support. It seemed only yesterday we were cradling her in our arms to bring her home from the hospital. I wonder how much longer I'll be able to hold her in my arms like this, before she's pulled away from me for good. School, friends, distractions of all kinds, and just growing up--it's already taking her from me. Moments like this--alone one-on-one together--are already few and far between, and they won't be so easy to come by in years to come. They're too infrequent now.
And here it is, time for bed already. I must take her upstairs and tuck her in the crib. Maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll get a chance to hold her like this again, one-on-one, before she's all grown up. I hope so.
Goodnight Alyssa. How I love you!
Wednesday, May 26, 1993
Sunday, May 23, 1993
Finding Castle Valley (1976)
In our pursuit to "move to the country" Mother searched many advertisements and newspaper articles for land. Most descriptions in the paper portrayed hidden treasures with majestic landscapes, a beautiful country home, and a crystal-clear lake with a stream. Except for a few spots, what Mother usually found when exploring these "treasures" were lifeless hills, junky wooden sheds, with a large mudhole at the end of a ditch. But she didn't give up! As a family, we visited a few of the most promising locations, but none of the parcels we examined ever felt right; short growing seasons or less than desirable circumstances were common. As with some of the other family endeavors, this one seemed doomed to failure. Or was it?
Early in the year 1976, Mother responded to an advertisement for land which she had read about in the newspaper. While the rest of the family went on with their normal lives, Mother and Robyn took a trip to Southeast Utah to get a firsthand look at the offerings. This trip seemed to me pretty much the same as the others, except this one lasted a couple of days. But when Mom returned this time, we knew that something was different.
As Mother told us about what she had seen and heard, we saw in her eyes and heard in her voice the trembling of excitement and glimmer of hope that this was the opportunity for which we had been searching. She described a beautiful valley, large Cottonwood trees, towering red rock cliffs, acres of land, and even nearby ponds and streams. The land was affordable, and nearly the entire valley of parcels was available for the choosing. "This time is different," she promised. Robyn glowed with equal excitement, which soon radiated to all of us in the form of unbearable anticipation. A trip was planned, provisions made, and a chapter in the history of the W. Richard Stucki family began to unfold. Our lives were to be changed forever.
Climbing in the car for our journey to see the valley (called Castle Valley) was like boarding a time capsule to discover our future. Somehow, as our car passed though the streets and by the houses of our neighborhood on our way to explore the 'promised land,' I knew that the neighborhood we left that day—where our family had worked and played and lived for 23 years—would soon no longer be the backdrop to the stage of our lives.
We traveled south past Orem and Provo and into the Spanish Fork Canyon. We continued up and over Soldier's Summit to Price, Green River, and on to Crescent Junction. At the time, the main highway flowed directly through the center of these small communities. I remember thinking how small and remote these little towns seemed. We turned south at Crescent Junction, moving toward Moab (pronounce MO' AB, not MOHB like I first thought) and approached the Arches National Park. Mother explained that we were nearing our destination and our anticipation soared, but the sun quickly plunged toward the skyline. It was early evening when we passed Arches and crossed the Colorado River bridge. "Just 25 miles up this windy road, and we'll be there," Mother encouraged.
Now I'm not too proud to say that although I wanted to
believe in this answer to our dreams that Mom had spoken so highly, I had only seen desert, dirt, and sage brush & cactus for the last 150 miles of our trip. My faith in a beautiful green valley just waiting to be discoved was beginning to wane just a bit. But when we turned onto the Colorado River road on the last leg of our journey, I noticed that the terrain indeed did change—from red sand to red rock! Our doubts soon turned into comments like "Is this it?"; "You brought us all the way down here to see rocks?"; "I thought you said there was green!" but Mother's excitement only increased, "Wait, just wait. You'll see. We're almost there."
The sun had fallen below the horizon of the red rock cliffs and the shadows were tall and long. Interesting shapes filled the contours of the landscape, stretching across the winding road and down to the river below. Often the river crept very close, and at other times fell out of sight far beneath the road. The anticipation grew as the car moved back-and-forth along the river road. At last we rounded a corner and gazed upon the beautiful White's Ranch beside the Colorado river. Our doubts and jests soon turned in to utter disbelief and amazement ."How could this beautiful, lush green ranch lie here in the middle of the desert?" Cattle and horses covered the acres of green alfalfa fields. Large Cottonwood trees surrounded small cabins and a mobile home. And nestled beside corrals, tack sheds, and a tractor was a small, clear-running stream. Mother told us that this was the very same creek that ran through the valley we had come to see.
It was growing darker rapidly now, except for the mammoth, solid rock cliffs directly in front of us. The towering red rock crags glowed fiery red like a burning bush. The sun had dropped far beneath the horizon behind us and now the only formation tall enough to catch the sun's rays was this tremendous ensign before us. This red rock spectacle burned more vividly and brightly that night than any other time since. Mother said then that it was a sign from God welcoming us to our new home. I believe that to be true.
Soon we came to the bridge at White's Ranch which crossed over the small stream. We continued along the river road until we reached the Castle Valley turn off. As we drove along the steep, narrow one-lane road, our anticipation and excitement grew. The winding road traversed back-and-forth until at last, we reached the summit of the hill and slipped down into the valley. The feeling I experienced at that moment, I will never forget. Seemingly from nowhere, a beautiful, green valley stretched before us. Enormous Cottonwood trees, rich green pastures, and rustic cabins and barns appeared below us. Amazement turned into wonder as we viewed thousands of acres of ground surrounded by a red cliff fortress and topped with majestic snow-capped peaks. The rocks cliffs extended up to the LaSal Mountains and were swallowed up in the luscious, green foilage. At the upper end of the valley stood a small mountain with the characteristics of a volcano, called Round Mountain, and a little stream mendered for miles down the length of the valley.
With nightfall fast approaching, we stopped at the sales office and were told we could setup camp near the old homestead at the bottom of the valley. It was dark by now, and we found bats living in the old cabin, so we chose to place our sleeping bags under the canopy of trees. Exhaustion soon overcame anticipation, and we quickly drifted off to sleep.
Morning came quickly and when we awoke, a herd of horses had wandered cautiously into our camp and surrounded us. They sniffed our sleeping bags and snooped around curiously. The horses remained calm until we awoke and started to get up, then they galloped away. The children were elated. And although this encounter with the horses was brief, it was just the beginning of many hours of fun and excitement with them for years to come.
Early in the year 1976, Mother responded to an advertisement for land which she had read about in the newspaper. While the rest of the family went on with their normal lives, Mother and Robyn took a trip to Southeast Utah to get a firsthand look at the offerings. This trip seemed to me pretty much the same as the others, except this one lasted a couple of days. But when Mom returned this time, we knew that something was different.
As Mother told us about what she had seen and heard, we saw in her eyes and heard in her voice the trembling of excitement and glimmer of hope that this was the opportunity for which we had been searching. She described a beautiful valley, large Cottonwood trees, towering red rock cliffs, acres of land, and even nearby ponds and streams. The land was affordable, and nearly the entire valley of parcels was available for the choosing. "This time is different," she promised. Robyn glowed with equal excitement, which soon radiated to all of us in the form of unbearable anticipation. A trip was planned, provisions made, and a chapter in the history of the W. Richard Stucki family began to unfold. Our lives were to be changed forever.
Climbing in the car for our journey to see the valley (called Castle Valley) was like boarding a time capsule to discover our future. Somehow, as our car passed though the streets and by the houses of our neighborhood on our way to explore the 'promised land,' I knew that the neighborhood we left that day—where our family had worked and played and lived for 23 years—would soon no longer be the backdrop to the stage of our lives.
We traveled south past Orem and Provo and into the Spanish Fork Canyon. We continued up and over Soldier's Summit to Price, Green River, and on to Crescent Junction. At the time, the main highway flowed directly through the center of these small communities. I remember thinking how small and remote these little towns seemed. We turned south at Crescent Junction, moving toward Moab (pronounce MO' AB, not MOHB like I first thought) and approached the Arches National Park. Mother explained that we were nearing our destination and our anticipation soared, but the sun quickly plunged toward the skyline. It was early evening when we passed Arches and crossed the Colorado River bridge. "Just 25 miles up this windy road, and we'll be there," Mother encouraged.
Now I'm not too proud to say that although I wanted toThe sun had fallen below the horizon of the red rock cliffs and the shadows were tall and long. Interesting shapes filled the contours of the landscape, stretching across the winding road and down to the river below. Often the river crept very close, and at other times fell out of sight far beneath the road. The anticipation grew as the car moved back-and-forth along the river road. At last we rounded a corner and gazed upon the beautiful White's Ranch beside the Colorado river. Our doubts and jests soon turned in to utter disbelief and amazement ."How could this beautiful, lush green ranch lie here in the middle of the desert?" Cattle and horses covered the acres of green alfalfa fields. Large Cottonwood trees surrounded small cabins and a mobile home. And nestled beside corrals, tack sheds, and a tractor was a small, clear-running stream. Mother told us that this was the very same creek that ran through the valley we had come to see.
It was growing darker rapidly now, except for the mammoth, solid rock cliffs directly in front of us. The towering red rock crags glowed fiery red like a burning bush. The sun had dropped far beneath the horizon behind us and now the only formation tall enough to catch the sun's rays was this tremendous ensign before us. This red rock spectacle burned more vividly and brightly that night than any other time since. Mother said then that it was a sign from God welcoming us to our new home. I believe that to be true.
Soon we came to the bridge at White's Ranch which crossed over the small stream. We continued along the river road until we reached the Castle Valley turn off. As we drove along the steep, narrow one-lane road, our anticipation and excitement grew. The winding road traversed back-and-forth until at last, we reached the summit of the hill and slipped down into the valley. The feeling I experienced at that moment, I will never forget. Seemingly from nowhere, a beautiful, green valley stretched before us. Enormous Cottonwood trees, rich green pastures, and rustic cabins and barns appeared below us. Amazement turned into wonder as we viewed thousands of acres of ground surrounded by a red cliff fortress and topped with majestic snow-capped peaks. The rocks cliffs extended up to the LaSal Mountains and were swallowed up in the luscious, green foilage. At the upper end of the valley stood a small mountain with the characteristics of a volcano, called Round Mountain, and a little stream mendered for miles down the length of the valley.
With nightfall fast approaching, we stopped at the sales office and were told we could setup camp near the old homestead at the bottom of the valley. It was dark by now, and we found bats living in the old cabin, so we chose to place our sleeping bags under the canopy of trees. Exhaustion soon overcame anticipation, and we quickly drifted off to sleep.
Morning came quickly and when we awoke, a herd of horses had wandered cautiously into our camp and surrounded us. They sniffed our sleeping bags and snooped around curiously. The horses remained calm until we awoke and started to get up, then they galloped away. The children were elated. And although this encounter with the horses was brief, it was just the beginning of many hours of fun and excitement with them for years to come.
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