(Nude) Art and Krafts

There are those among us who see dead people.

I see famous people. And dumb people. And nude people.

It's a gift.

A year ago I was in Maui with my IL's eating mango cheesecake and watching game shows and seeing nude people. Remember that?

And remember this?

And remember how I generously posted photoGRAPHIC evidence of most of it for those of you who don't see nude people?

OMGOODNESS! Those were happy days, full of incredible bee-U-ty (and nudity).

But these are happy days as well. And surprisingly, also full of incredible bee-U-ty. (And technically, a little nudity.)

A lot of nudity actually, being as the trees are stark raving nekked all day long.

But I like it. I like it a lot. In defense of trees, their nudity is more . . . artsy-ish and less . . . p- word-ish.

I respect tree nudity, actually. It's honest. And it takes a lot of guts for those trees to just drop their drawers and let the world see every crook and cranny. But it makes them more authentic to be all vulnerable and exposed like that.

Alls I know is I can't really get enough of their authenticity right now. It's true what they say about nudity: Hard not to stare. And dangerous while you're driving.

Case in point: Yesterday I went for the most tremendous ride EVER from Provo canyon, past Deer Creek, past Heber, through Park City and into Salt Lake and I could hardly keep my eyes on the road.

You know how they say white makes you look bigger? It really does! The mountains are covered head to toe in snow and they look humongous. Especially against a valiant blue sky. It's almost startling how pure and holy they have become in just a few short weeks. If it weren't for the nekked trees I bet they'd be translated already.

What I can't figure out is why the pioneers didn't appreciate it more! All that freakin' awesome endless eye candy--and they got to look at it 24/6 (assuming they didn't walk and walk and walk on the sabbath).

I, for one, didn't take it for granted. The sun was high, and the clouds were low, and I was driving like I had no where to go. It was 40 degrees and bright. I broke out my shades and cranked up the air con and popped in some David Archuleta Christmas. (Best Christmas album EVER, peeps. Smooth like creamy, velvety butta. I would marry David Archuleta right now if he asked me.)

Uhh . . . what was I talking about again?

Oh, yea. And Deer Creek . . . O! M! WOW! Talk about glitter and glam. Mariah Carey's got nothin' on Deer Creek. It looked like someone had been busy with a bedazzler.

(Do you think Gad has a dedazzler?)

Hmmmm . . .

I think I've figured out how Gad makes all the pine trees look like a Thomas Kincade puzzle. Powdered sugar. And I bet he uses a big ole' sifter to give it that evenly dusted look. I'm going to go out on a limb and assert that Gad is a krafter. I would even go so far as to say he's the best krafter EVER!

No wonder us Utard's are trying to be just like him.