You are driving on one of Arizona's many scenic routes and the sign says "Monument Valley." You take a quick glance off to the right and what you see is breathtaking. Suddenly you seem to be in a different world. You are struck with a desire to further study this place.
At the first opportunity you pull off the highway and park. You walk to the right-of-way fence and stand facing an enormous flat valley. Mostly bare, it has stretches of smooth sand and broken pieces of rock scattered around, a few gullies winding along, grooved there by summer torrents of rain and melting snows of spring. The edges of these gullies are sparsely lined with small bushes and delicately colored flowers, all in good tast to blend with the surroundings.
Standing about on the floor of this valley are many majestic monuments of stone, impressive in their heights and casting dark shadows at their feet. Some of these monuments are placed far apart and stand alone. Others are closer together and some are in groups. THey all stand aloof like giants and seem to say, "This land is ours and reverence is required here." They have been sculpured by the hands of nature, which hands alone possess the skill and force to handle the tools required to accomplish such a task. The tools are time, patience, raindrops, snowflakes, freezing nights in winter, sun parched days in summer, wind and time--time--patience and time.
Then to yourself you say, "So this is Monument Valley?" You turn to leave and then you stop. Enchantment draws you back to view once more the scene that captures you. You stand in awe, your senses all alert and eager to grasp and savor the sweet silent of that moment.