Breathe The Pure Air, And Watch The Solemn March Of The Stars.
Have you ever noticed how delicious the most ordinary food is, when cooked
and eaten in the open air, after a day of reasonable exertion?
Climbing,
riding, and walking expand the lungs, and this means the absorption of
immeasurably more oxygen. Weak stomachs, fickle appetites, dyspeptic
symptoms, insomnia, blue devils and a score of the ills that human flesh is
heir to, disappear before the floods of sunshine and oxygen that bathe the
body, inside and out, of the man or woman who gladly accepts the outdoor
life, even though only for a short time, in this Canyon region.
These philosophizings are aroused by the smell of bacon frying over the
camp-fire, or the crack of a fine, mealy Arizona potato, roasting in the
ashes, or a whiff from the coffee-pot, just about to topple over on the
burning sticks. The fire is made of driftwood washed down possibly from
some storm-swept region where a Mormon dwells with his numerous family; or,
mayhap, from a forest where the elk of Wyoming still roam.
How real life in this Canyon now begins to be. It is opening up its secrets
to us as we thus come into it. We are learning to love it, therefore it
shows its heart to us. It no longer is a "thing" to be looked at; it is a
real something, an individuality to love, to listen to, to question, to
honor.
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