It's been windy and I love it.
Normally I have this little melancholy lodged in my soul, mourning the prairie and wide open spaces that I grew up and stretched my arms in. I could hardly call it emptiness anymore, the gracious space that charmingly sandwiches you between golden field and soft blue sky. The mountains are lovely, but I sometimes feel as though I'm up against a wall. Albeit a majestic wall.
However, today, as the mountains drifted up and disappeared into the heavy white mash of foggy clouds I was amazed at how tall they'd grown. They'd probably been so ten miles high all this time, but you never notice the grandeur until it's embraced by sky. And so the mountains grew on me a little bit more today.
I would like it to be warm and I would like to go swimming.
23 March 2009
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I remember moving to Utah and everyone said to me, "Aren't the mountains so pretty?" I wanted to reply, "no they are not! Where is my horizon? Where is the blue sky that I could look out into and see the ends of the earth? It's gone! Blocked by the big ugly brown things." But I was a little girl and couldn't say that to my elders. So I would do a half nod and shy away.
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