“They call these mountains?” Annie asked as we began our drive through the Ozarks.
My daughters and I were snaking our way through the Ozark Mountains as part of our Independence Day celebration. The road caused us to twist and turn our way through a sea of endless trees, then up and down slopes, and across bridges over large rivers. We drove past manicured campgrounds and cabins perched on the shores of sparkling lakes. The vistas were inspiring.
“Whoever named these ‘hills’ had never seen Utah’s Rocky Mountains!” Jessi said.
“Can you believe how much water there is?” I asked.
The surrounding meadows and trees were lush and green.
“Sometimes we get as much rain in one storm as you get in the whole year,” Kilee, our now-local resident and guide, explained.
She continued to teach us about this place of beauty as we drove and stopped to savor the views. They were different views than we had experienced in Utah’s mountains. And they were beautiful to behold.
“Another, different view,” I said to myself.
When we began our journey into the Ozarks, we entered with a singular point of view thinking that these lower reaching forests would never compare to our beloved and majestic Rocky Mountains. Perhaps it was because of our simple and long-held point of view.
After all, my girls grew up in the shadows of the 11,000 foot heights of the Wasatch, Oquirrh and Stansbury Mountain Ranges. After 20 years, we still feel our hearts burst at the sight of incomparable sunsets over the Great Salt Lake. Such fond feelings will never cease for us. That point of view will never change.
“Look at the size of that lake!” I said as we reached another point of view.
It was one more amazing Ozark vista. Suddenly my point of view had changed. I was appreciating beauty on its own terms. A 2,500-foot-high summit had turned into a mountain.
“Yes,” I told myself, “They call these mountains!”
Lynn Butterfield lives in Erda and is a managing broker for a real estate company.