Twenty-five years ago Tom and I flew to Reno in a big grey bird. We said simple vows in a little chapel in front of an old minister, who was blinded by broken lenses. My son, Steve, and his wife were our witnesses. It was a day full of joy and new beginnings.
"Our 25th wedding anniversary is a very good reason to celebrate. Lets make this year an anniversary to remember. Let's go to places we have wondered about for years - places far away." I suggested. This time our trip would not be in an airplane, but a 30 ft. travel trailer.
"Our 25th wedding anniversary is a very good reason to celebrate. Lets make this year an anniversary to remember. Let's go to places we have wondered about for years - places far away." I suggested. This time our trip would not be in an airplane, but a 30 ft. travel trailer.
I took my sister's hand as we walked inside the new LDS temple. I could barely catch my breath as I tried to hide my tears. The beauty was stunning, with white marble floors and stained glass windows of green and pink floral vines. I believe it is one of the most beautiful temples ever, newly constructed in the place of my birth, Payson, Utah. The public open house will soon be over, and the dedication will be held on the first Sunday in June.
Just like the pony express, neither rain, winds or snow could keep us from exploring Martin's Cove in Wyoming. If you aren't familiar with the story, take a minute to look it up. Willie-Martin Handcart Company. A memorial site has been erected in honor of the many pioneers that lost their lives in a fierce snow storm in 1856. Do you recognize Devil's Gate? It's right next to the Martin Handcart Memorial. This natural monument was frequently mentioned in diaries of early pioneers on both the Oregon Trail and Mormon Trail. The Sweetwater River came through the rock, so the pioneers had to go around - in covered wagons like this one. |
This site at Guernsey, Wyoming is one of the most visible remains of the Oregon-Mormon trail. The ruts cut a path through the sandstone on a ridge above the South Platte River. We walked in the ruts and I imagined how carefully the immigrants had to watch their steps, or they would fall. Now imagine how they were also pushing or pulling a handcart and battling the elements at the same time. I am mighty thankful for the sacrifice our ancestors made to come to the West..