28 March 2013

And the mountains of Idaho

I love this place.  
This is the view from behind my home: 
the desert, and beyond, the mountains. 

Last August I traveled to Panama for 18 days.  It was a beautiful adventure with a lovely people and language, and a wonderfully different landscape. Panama sits just above the equator, so the sun goes down early--around 6--and we were settled for bed by 8:30. I'm a night owl and usually stay up until 1, so this early bedtime was unacceptable.

Instead of sleeping, I stayed awake and read, soaking up the English language (which you really start to miss after a couple of days of only Spanish). One of the books I read was a collection of Norman MacLean stories set in Idaho and Montana. Maybe I missed my home, or maybe I realized how connected I feel to this place, but these words became holy and, for a moment, beautifully transcendent:

“—and the mountains of Idaho, poems of geology stretching beyond any boundaries and seemingly even beyond the world.”

            (From Norman MacLean’s "USFS 1919: The Ranger, the Cook, and a Hole in the Sky")

The book: A River Runs Through It and Other Stories by Norman MacLean

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