From Devils Tower we drove west across much of Wyoming, seeing nothing but fields. Fields, fields, fields, some hay bales, an endless stretch of road, and more fields. What I did not realize was that we were also rising, approaching small mountains on the horizon. It wasn’t until we were up on the mountain’s side that I realized how high we had risen. So high that we could see the line of haze where the atmosphere of the great big sky touched the vast green fields of earth below. This was a god’s point of view, and we could not help but stop for a few moments to take in the view.
Our drive through the Great Plains became a blur of field and sky. This was the Great American frontier, vast and wild and free. I watched it fly by in waves as we made our way to the Black Hills of South Dakota.