Harey Tale
What started out as a “vonderful goot time” turned very quickly into a hairy ordeal.  My husband and I were on our way to Phoenix AZ where he was invited to show and sell his work at the prestigious Heard Museum Indian Art Market.  It’s about a two day drive, but this particular year we were determined to make it in one.  Not quite the stone age, but a time before GPS and Bertha’s notorious, RECALCULATING, I was expected to be the fool proof navigational device.  Unfortunately my super powers turn off at 12:00 PM when I should be tucked tight in a warm bed, so needless to say the dark skies were closing in on me and the north star was of no help because we were headed south.    

As I told Monte to take a right onto that dark Utah road, there was no doubt in my mind I was on track.  As we began to wind on a road only traveled by our lone car, it did not make me question my direction- we were on a journey and enjoying every second of the beautiful red cliffs, sage brush and…. jack rabbits.  At first one, two, three; we were amazed at how large they were and their crazy jumping patterns.  Quickly they multiplied, as rabbits do and we were no longer amazed at there long strides, but trying our best to dodge their THUMPITY THUMPS.  There was no chance we could miss all of them…their darting to and fro, sporadic fast movement.  It was as if they were all trying out for the quarter back position on the Utah Jacks.    

Now snow began to fall, mesmerizing our eyes, rabbits darted dizzying our minds, as we climbed yet further into oblivion. Rocks lay on the road, fallen from the red cliffs- they were screaming “Hit Me”.  It was at this time I finally admitted,