Traveling

I've just returned from a trip to spend Easter with my family in Denver.  We always drive, and it's always a challenge at this time of year, trying to second-guess the weather through 2 mountain ranges and a high desert.  We started out in a blizzard in the Salt Lake Valley, and by the time we reached Price, the snow had stopped.  When we came through the Eisenhower tunnel at Loveland Pass, it was 77 degrees. 

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.