When I'm not trying to referree bored, restless teenagers, these drives are a time for contemplation and writing. No, I don't write while driving! At the beginning of the trip, I hand my journal to my daughter, and she records the random images that come to me as we drive. Her pen was very busy while we drove through Helper, Price and Wellington, UT. I suspect these ramblings will rearrange into an Ode to Carbon County. In the meantime, this came to me this morning:
Soapstone sink and iron pump wait
beneath cedar shakes and redwood beams;
a place apart in green solitude.
River creeps to the sea while
salmon leap upstream and home.
I resemble that sentiment :)
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