Out on the Southwestern edge of the Palouse Country, where wheat fields border the Channeled Scablands of Central Washington, I traveled down an ordinary two lane road.
Resting alongside this highway for about thirty minutes or so, only two cars passed by, a flat bed Ford pick-up and a grain truck. Both slowed momentarily, checking to make sure that I was okay, my friendly wave confirming that I was.
Scattered Cumulus overhead, temperature in the mid 60's.
A friendless stretch of highway. I sat there on the inclined shoulder, in the knee high grass and observed Quarter horse Mother's and their foals, tails swaying from hind quarter to hind quarter. Inquisitive glances my way, ears perked. Filly's and Colts perfecting their canter.
The wind was soft, easy on my face, making the wheat grass hiss and shimmer; occasionally the sun would appear and warm me ever so slightly and then shy away behind another cloud.
Delicate aromas of Lilac and various wild Spring blossoms carried on the breeze.
As I sat, I realized that this lonesome road isn't so friendless after all.
Quarter horse Mothers
and their Foals.
The play on light against the landscape as the sun ducked between clouds.
and the wheat swaying in the gentle wind, and for the moment, me and my bike.
Rage Against the Dying of the Light
13 hours ago