Some of you may have noticed that the blog posts have been a bit absent lately. I always think I’m going to continue these while we’re gadding about, but it doesn’t often happen. Traveling is a full-time activity, especially when you get to be amongst the people dearest to you that live so far away.
On the way back, we spent a day driving through Wyoming and somewhere along the way, a poem emerged.
Wyoming. Oh, Wyoming.
A state designed for introspection
As the miles fade away behind us
And stretch out to infinity before us,
Wild, and stark beauty on every side.
Cattle stand with noses to the ground
Building muscle and bone from the grass
Thinking their placid bovine thoughts,
Unhurried and untroubled by the rain
Hanging like a dark curtain up ahead
There’s a regular rhythm
Of telephone wires dancing gracefully
As they go from pole to pole
Telling stories and carrying secrets,
Whispering all along the line.
The wind was born in Wyoming
And spends its days roaming
Seas of sagebrush on undulating fields,
Picking up tumbleweeds and hurling them
Head over heels, head over heels.
Wyoming, Oh, Wyoming.
Stop trying to woo me with your
Mountains, your long winding Wind River,
Your ranches and your red sandstone cliffs.
I belong to another state. Farewell.
And that’s the end of that story.
I’ll nip this one in the bud in the morning.
Lynniebeemuseoday 
I suspected you were galavanting around to the outermost parts of the nation.
Thank you for your observations!
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That is, galivanting.
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