I don’t remember where I first saw the link to this magical place.
It’s just an intersection in a town in a faraway state. I cannot tell you how much joy I derive from this live feed. For anyone else (minus the 288 people currently watching, make that 290) it’s probably akin to watching paint dry. I get that, I really do. (down to 278)
Although there’s not a lot of pedestrian traffic whenever I seem to check in (granted, mostly middle of the night), I’ve gotten in the habit of making up 10 second stories about the denizens of Jackson Hole if I check in mid-day.
Typical tiny stories:
*Oh, I see Linda is out in her red coat. Looks like she’s been supporting the local economy on her 2nd dead husband’s money by the number of shopping bags she’s carrying.
*Look at that cute family coming through the park! I think they have a toddler. Aw cutie pie. Oh, it’s a dog! Aw, cutie pie! It’s wearing a sweater!
*Jane is late for work. Again.
*Mark has been standing outside that kiosk/shed/shack for 20 minutes. Looks cold. He doesn’t appear to have gloves. WHERE ARE YOUR GLOVES, MARK?
And while it’s easy enough to google what’s in the immediate area to see what shops & businesses are in the vicinity, or watch the 24 other live feeds of Jackson Hole, it’s more fun to just work with what I have on the screen. The only thing I know for certain: if you want the Teton-Yellowstone National Parks, hang a left. Only because there’s a sign next to the traffic light. Everyone seems to be courteous to drivers & pedestrians alike at Heaven’s Little Intersection, and weirdly enough, I have yet to see a law enforcement vehicle.
One morning when Chris was at work & I was sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee at 5am (2am in JH), I clicked over to see what was happening in my new favorite location. It was so picturesque, this currently deserted crossroads, with the lights from the park & softly falling snow. I may have sighed with contentment.
In a time where my feeds are overwhelmingly angry, sad & confusing, I need these little moments of tranquility. No doubt it’s the same reason many tune into the Cape May live feeds, which I’ve never viewed. Why would I? I know when I can find my friend John Cooke down at the Cove walking Joy, his gorgeous golden retriever, and shooting the sunrise. I forget that my everyday existence in the seaside town where I grew up is someone else’s vacation dream or few minutes of escape.
So enamored, I checked possible vacation itineraries at a variety of local inns, lodges & AirBnbs. I burst out laughing with my findings. “It’s like Cape May, but in the mountains!”
Little moments of peace, little moments of serenity. I’ll take ’em where I can find ’em. Even if it’s as a peeper from 2,229 miles away.