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Show see the teasing grin on her face. STREA MOF CONS CIOU SNE SS Cheeky, this one is. Well, more power to her, I think as I smile in return. Despite the tenacity of hope, I'm glad that I will not be witness to what the next 50 years bring to Earth. Sally will need plenty of moxie for that. Together we stand underneath the mesa, looking down across the sweep of talus, to smaller hills and then beyond, across to the fields of Sorrel River Ranch and finally to the willow-strewn banks of the Colorado. The blue-green tinge of the organic hops fields that my neighbor uses as the base crop of a multi-billion dollar brewing company also provides a fabulous visual contrast to the red of the desert that surrounds. The few scattered sheds, homes, and outbuildings have changed naught in probably 40 years, I muse, as I examine their weathered exteriors and impeccable condition. The ‘big house’, though indeed big, has been screened (due to a sudden conniption of the county planning and zoning commission) and is not visible from where we stand. Sally sighs, “It really is beautiful here, Grans. You know, places like this just don't exist in too many other areas. You should appreciate it.” I am pleased that her indifference was for show but feel compelled nonetheless, to retort thatI do get out every now and then and am well aware that Earth doesn't rotate on its axis merely for Grand County, Utah. Even _ though it is God's country. It's water off a duck's back to her and she asks, pointing in the distance, “What are those people doing down on the river bank?” Her eyes are better than mine, despite LAVE (laser assisted vision enhancement) for old My pleasure at the bizarre chain of events (that made the A Anne Wilson Peo Anne Wilson | SemAnne Gates of Heaven Preserve) possible comes back across the years. causing me to shake my head and smile as Wilson in 2048 I was wont to do 45 years ago. people busy with chain saws and paint buckets near the river's edge come into focus. Their mission is obvious to me. “Ah, well, there are still a few remnants of tamarisk that crop up along the river here and there. Because there are so few it's easier to cut them down and apply an organic compound sealant which suffocates the root system, than to...” Sally interrupts. “What's tamarisk again?” I look at her in disbelief, knowing that I have probably told her myself a thousand times before. Of course, that might be exactly Author's Note: For obvious reasons, this essay is entirely fictional. Visions from the Future Professor Valley, Utah...October 2048 The sigh expelled ahead of me on the worn path is heavy, and decibels greater than necessary. I know my granddaughter is exasperated at my slowness. Hell, I’m exasperated at my slowness, but I'm celebrating 81 on this upcoming solstice. Too many lattés and too few calcium supplements in my youth have made me cautious of falling. The ol’ hips ain't what they used to be and I'm not referring to their width. breath, and “Tamarisk is a plant species that originated in East Asia. It was brought to the United controls it evolved with, it could out-compete the native vegetation and went wild along the rivers in the Western I pause, ostensibly to admire the view (which is, as my step-children used to say long ago, ‘righteous'), but really to catch my what the problem is. I relent. States, oh, I guess around 1900 for its' ornamental value. Unfortunately, without the natural let Sally cultivate the attribute of patience. I have after all, a duty towards the development of her character. The fact that I continue to thrive on contrariness and on just being difficult momentarily escapes me. Sally charges ahead regardless, looking neither right nor left, up nor down. She is oblivious, apparently, to the shifting breeze that teases our hair and tantalizes our nostrils U.S. It became a terrible problem, until scientists found a biological control to rein it in.” “Mmmm. Cool. Well, maybe we should get back now.” Sally's astute mind begins to wander. Not that I blame her. It's hard for most people to get excited about exotic species control, even when success usually benefits the human species significantly. “Why don't we take a few minutes to enjoy this beautiful spot that doesn't exist in too many places any more?” I inquire sarcastically. "Oh, now there's an idea,” she pauses. “I guess we could hang for a few.” with an undercurrent of sage mixed with the freshness of moist red dirt that can be replicated nowhere else on earth. The northern harrier that soars overhead against the ‘Hanging for a few’ sounds good to my old bones and I thankfully ease myself into backdrop of puffy cumulus floating across the vast expanse of azure blue, does not distract her from her mission. The towering wingate cliffs that cast an angled shadow across the talus slope elude her vision. Get-to-the-top-as-fast-as-possible. I am annoyed. Then. a sitting position with my back propped against a boulder. The weather is superb and as I look out across the wonder that is Professor Valley I am lulled into the remembrance of what transpired to ensure its lasting beauty. buoyant. I cannot believe my utter good fortune that she is able to take the dirt, the sky, the wildlife, the vegetation, the quiet, the fresh air for granted. Okay, so the quiet is rare, but it does continue to exist. What luxury. It is a real desert oasis, this 1200-odd acre refuge from the “civilization” that makes up the 21st century. Due in part to my neighbors, Robbie Levin and Margaret Doles Southards My pleasure at the bizarre chain of events that made such preservation possible comes back across the years, causing me to shake my head and smile as I was wont to do 45 years ago. I inhale deeply, happiness shooting through to the tips of my arthritic fingers, and continue along the Hilltop Trail to the Gates of Heaven Preserve overlook. My creaking steps quicken in anticipation of the approaching Colorado River vista—that narrow green ribbon that winds its way through Professor Valley-—providing a corridor in which people and nature co-exist. My steps and breathing become a rhythm as I, one-two, one-two, plod up the incline. Ahead I hear the pounding of quick footsteps heading down the path and the murmur of voices exchanging words with my granddaughter. My erstwhile neighbor, Mr. Levin himself appears, setting the pace for a daily half-marathon with friends. At 99 he still runs competitively, and I think in retrospect that being a vegetarian is probably a good idea. A little late for me now, but maybe reduced to bug status. when I come around next time? That is, if I'm not I reach the overlook. Sally looks ready to head back by now, though annoyance has eased from her brow. “Geez, Granny, can we go already?” I look towards her sharply and In late 1998, Robbie Levin presented the amendment plans for his planned unit development at Sorrel River Guest Ranch to the Grand County Council for approval (which he received). The density was thereby increased and the type of land use changed to that of a more commercial variety. During the same period, the U.S. Justice Department made an unheard of, and obscenely rapid, move in a ruling against Microsoft Corporation, a giant computer software company, in an anti-trust case involving its rivals. The Justice Department found that in addition to undertaking any number of devious measures to eliminate competition in the Internet browser industry, the CEO of the company (Bill Gates) had willingly and knowingly engaged in blackmail of top competitor executives on a personal level. The Microsoft CEO was apparently threatening to expose the fact that many of these mental geniuses subscribed to People magazine and secretly watched soap operas in the executive restrooms. The Justice Department consequently slapped a punitive damages penalty on Microsoft Corp. and fined Bill Gates personally in the amount of some $500 million. They did, however give Gates a.couple of options. He could ante up the fine to the government...or he could make a significant contribution to a good cause. To assuage his battered ego and swallow the bile of his defeat, Gates decided to take a vacation. He determined to return to a place he fondly remembered from a prior visit...Sorrel River Guest Ranch in southeastern Utah. On the eve of his departure, a good friend mentioned to Gates that he’d better enjoy his stay while there was still something to enjoy. Meaning what? asked Gates. He learned that ominous changes were lurking on From our crazed Biker/reindeer: riders to alll of you... Have a great year in 1999 |