We've passed two dead buffalo today, each with his hungry feather cloak of crows and pale banded hawks. The birds leap up as we pass, wheel about, and land again, bloody-beaked. I suppose I'm a freak, but my heart sings to see them.
The land has finally changed again. No longer sculpted by permafrost, and studded by the stunted alpine firs. The trees are actually taller than I am, for once. (Please Note: I am kinda short). The birches here are bursting into pale-green leaves, and the hills look like some 'mad kindergardner was scribbling with a neon green crayon' (
gfish said that, and it was such a perfect description I had to repeat it).We're almost home. Tommorrow night, we'll see the lights of Seattle, silver and orange on eternal blue.
