Winter Desert Walks
Sometimes, I miss cedar trees so much it hurts. Sometimes, I find myself right at home in these seas of sage brush. We follow a herd of mule deer over the ridge until they split, running like water off the top, in two different directions. We breath in hard that salty, desert smell but our legs will never carry us all the way there. Up here, you peek right into the gut of wilderness. Elk bed down on the skyline, where brown meets white meets blue.
I’ve been carrying books on these walks, which doesn’t make much sense, in all their heavy, hardbound glory. I don’t read them. I just like the thought of taking them on trips to see my home, like they’ve done for me.