The Edge of Nowhere

I seemed to have lost Wyoming today, if only temporarily or by atmospheric illusion. I was standing early this morning at our second-floor bedroom window, threading my one and only belt through my uniform pant loops, looking through the winter branches of that tree we have there (mood destroyer: this would be a good place to show off my arboreal/horticultural knowledge of suburban plant life and name the tree, but I don't know what this tree is -- an ash of some sort, maybe? -- so instead, for this discussion which actually ends now, we'll call the tree "Robert") to the north (resuming, here), over the thousand rooftops looking to the north and there was this pale blue blanket of downy sky blocking my fifty-mile view of the lumpy rock tops at Vedauwoo and the Medicine Bows, which sulk up there on the northwestern horizon on clear days.

It was a flat matte wall of sky, as if someone pulled a shade down at the Wyoming border somehow, a cloudless but fuzzy curtain of sky . The sun came up a few minutes later and the bottom third skewed to the pink end of the spectrum, and I rubbed my eyes (we were out kind of late last night, late for forty-something edge-of-nowhere dwellers at that Chris Isaak concert in Boulder -- he must be the clown prince of campy/kitschy rock-a-billy crooners: the show as a kick, full of Xmas tunes from his new album and his standards, and his band is super tight! -- and when we came out of the show a nice quiet Christmassy snow was drifting through the large barren trees on the CU campus) and refocused (my eyes, resuming again), and yep, sure enough, that's what the Wyoming sky looked like. And then the day was here.

// posted by eba @ 11:42 AM