We made it from Lexington Nebraska to Logan Utah on Wednesday, leaving behind the perfect flatness of central Nebraska for Wyoming’s rolling brown hills and strangely huddled Black Angus Cattle, most of whom (like us) seemed to prefer to huddle tightly together rather than spread apart upon the vast landscape.
As we left this land of ranches, mines and oil wells behind and climbed almost imperceptibly over the mountains I was surprised and pleased to see that the wind farms that Deb and I first saw a year ago on our way back to Massachusetts have grown much larger and in one instance we saw rows of partially assembled units, sections of their cylindrical towers lying on the ground.
It was about an hour and a half drive up from Salt Lake City, winding between orange and brown cliffs looming over either side of the road, studded with solitary conifers and swiss cheese-like rounded mini caves that I imagined were inhabited by coyotes and wierdos.
1 comment:
It was harder to appreciate the glorious bluffs while clutching my stomach from the pain induced by the world's worst taco.
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