I love national parks. I guess that's not too surprising, since I was born and raised in Utah, which has a whomping 5 national parks and is only a stone's throw from Yellowstone and the Grand Canyon (this is a hypothetical stone. Do not throw stones near the Grand Canyon. Thank you.)
Some of my earliest memories include seeing a baby bear wander across the road in Yellowstone. A few minutes later a moose ran across the road as well. It somersaulted off the hood of our car and continued on its merry way.
Once, while hiking through a river in Zion's National Park, I fell and hit my forehead. I think I bled everywhere, but I remember that hike fondly because I was hiking through a river, for Pete's sake! How cool is that???
We got to the end of the hike--a pool created by a waterfall, I believe, and my mom and Grandma convinced me to change into my swimsuit while they held up towels for privacy. It was only after I'd completed the switch that I realized that the top of the waterfall was a scenic overlook. *Blush*
After my freshman year of college, I took working in the Lodge at Bryce Canyon National Park, a place I love so much that I made it the setting of one of my (as yet unpublished) novels. In an ironic twist, we took our kids there this summer, and I was miserable. I spent the whole time so panicked about my children near those steep drop offs that I wished I had a couple Valium (actually I often wish I had some Valium, but that's a topic for another time.)
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