Nature Blog - Prompt Entry #1

I grew up in the small, conservative Mormon community of Orem, Utah. Orem is one of the two cities at the heart of Utah Valley (the other is Provo, where Brigham Young University is). Utah is a desert, so the valley floor is wide and flat between the bookends of the mountains that make up its border. Half of the valley is taken up by Utah Lake, but I never thought of myself as living next to or near a lake while I was growing up; it wasn't part of my life the same way the mountains were.

The mountains the surrounded my childhood were the boundaries for my world. They made up the horizons on every side as the sky reached down between the dips and rises of their peaks. The Cascade Mountains on the east were the closest to my house, and every morning the sky lit up with a kind of backlighting as the sun peeked out over the mountain. The other side of the valley would be bathed in bright, clear light before the sun got high enough to warm those of us who were closer to its base. The mountains on the other side of the lake and the valley were the Lake Mountains, and the Oquirrh Mountain range (OH-ker) was just beyond them, layering the distance. Mt. Timpanogos was to the north, the king peak of the valley at some 11,000 feet. I always thought that it looked rather like a stately throne, somewhere I could sit and rest my back against its side as I surveyed the whole of the valley.

My relationship to the mountains was one of security. They had my back, literally. So long as I could see the mountains, I knew where I was in the valley. They were my guideposts, my guardrails, a protection from whatever lay beyond them, and I loved my mountains. I loved feeling sure of the world's dimensions, of having definite boundaries.

The Mormon religion of the valley dominated the culture as well, and it is a culture made up of boundaries and guard rails, commandment and rules, black and white. I think the valleys were originally attractive to the first Mormons because of the offered protection--the Mormons had been driven from state to state, and finally settled in Utah to escape persecution. Mormons also believe in being self-sufficient and self-sustaining, and so being enclosed and somewhat isolated from the rest of the world suited them just fine. Utah Valley is so predominantly Mormon that we call it the "Bubble," even amongst ourselves--encased, protected, able to see out but not leaving.

For me, there is a strong connection between the mountain-surrounded landscape and the straight and narrow Mormon culture. I don't know that the one necessarily influenced the other, but it's hard to imagine Orem staying so entirely Mormon in a location less isolated. I grew up to be someone who enjoys some isolation and who depends in the security of her surroundings to be secure in herself. The mountains, though ever changing in the light, the season, the weather, were always there, always stable. Secure. Sure. And it is stability that I look for and need most in my life. Though I grew up sheltered, surrounded as I was by people and mountains who guarded me from the outside world, I never felt smothered or confined. I gloried in the freedom that came with knowing I was safe.