I have always been fascinated by these stark land formations. In some places, they are called "badlands" primarily because of the lack of vegetation. I think of them as the bare skin and bones of the world, where you can actually see the direct effects of water and wind-borne sand. I also enjoy the colors. In one of my many recent trips between Mesa, Arizona and Provo, Utah, I was reflecting on the concept of "home." A sense of home can be experienced on many levels. Home is usually associated with family and friends. Memories create a sense of home. As I drove by these clay hills, as I have hundreds of times in the past, I realized that, apart from family and friend associations, I identify most completely with the desert hills of the Colorado Plateau. This is likely due to the fact that some of my earliest memories are associated with views like this one. I also reflected on the the fact that when I am asked, where are you from? I invariably answer with a place on the Plateau and not with the place where I was living at the time. I also reflected on how this was strange since I was not born in Arizona. I was born in Utah and I was not born on the Colorado Plateau. I was born next to and lived for many years next to the Wasatch Mountains. I guess the real question is and will always be where is my home?
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