Years ago, I went on a mountain biking trip on Mt. Saint Helens during the summer time. We tasted the ultimate freshness of a genuine mountain spring. We rode miles on the burgundy volcanic rock. We traveled up the mountain to a gorgeous lookout upon the bright, vibrant wildflowers. And out of our entire journey, I vividly remember one moment, one area, which will stick with me forever.
A dried up river bed lay empty and gasping for water magically begins to flow. First just a tiny stream, much like a hose left on at the top of a hill. The water is a milky, cream colored white, from all the oxygen in it. The frigid liquid could charitably quench anything’s thirst and give the purest water you could ever imagine. A taste so clean and salubrious, a reward much greater than money could buy.
After the stream began to run more fully, gaining speed and delivering nourishment to the parched vegetation, you begin to look around more fully to the surroundings. It is impossible not to notice the gorgeous wildflowers growing just down the hill. Their colors lay in waves, swaying in the wind, beckoning you to come bask in their glory. And now for the first time, the breeze brings that delicious sweet smell of the flower’s perfume. The rustling of these plants, gives the mountain a constant white noise, without them it would be awkwardly silent.
When the mountain erupted, it sent millions of stones soaring through the air. With that, they all came back down to find their own perfect little place to rest, surrounded by sand-like, salt and pepper colored ash. These maroon rocks have tons of miniscule holes all around it. Reach to pick one up, you will find yourself expecting to use much more strength than is needed to lift one of these stones. This mountain is full of surprises and it is always exciting to see amazing spectacle is waiting around the next bend.
It may be hard for some people to appreciate the beauty of what may seem like an almost barren wasteland. And...
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