Frost covered the ground, and the inside of the tent cracked as the zipper unveiled the new dawn. Romance is found on the surface as the day begins.
My first childhood camping memories are of this place. Crackling fires and melting marshmallows on pointy sticks. Little sis in pigtails sitting on Daddy’s knee.
Simpler times among the bears and elk of this wilderness. I find nourishment along the edge of serenity.
Treeline’s dance as my modern day horse races along the wilderness. Lakes gleam the late summer’s warmth. Snow capped mountains stir the call to explore.
Go deeper. Farther. Longer.
Only the setting sun can end my daydream in the pristine land the Minnetaree indians called Mi tse a-da-zi.
Yellow Rock River to the early White Man, evolving into the name Yellowstone that I know today.
