We’re our way to the Methow (Met-how) Valley now, cruising along near-deserted highway no. 17, with scores of miles between automobile sightings. It was that dreamy hour, early in the day, the heat not yet ripened, the wind scarcely a breath upon us.
Wheat and sagebrush under high clouds and faded blue sky:
East, West, North, and South.
Alone, but not lonely.
Full of love and awe.
The Rolling Huts, our modern home in the Methow, though I think they might need a bit of coaxing to actually roll. Perfectly situated for star gazing, and fortuitous timing for the beginning of the Perseid Meteor Shower, we laid in quiet witness of countless shooting stars, the slow descent of giant fire balls, zooming bright satellites, and our thick with dreamy stars Milky Way.
The wesola polana (happy meadow) and a couple of her visitors.
The Methow River and my favorite rock skipper.
Liberty Bell Mountain
Silver Star Mountain
The old-timey town of Winthrop. We saw no gun slingers or rabble-rousers, only like-minded tourists wilting in August heat.
A fellow looking much like a prospector made certain we did not miss this bridge and accompanying riparian entertainments (said with a hearty laugh and nod to Keeping Up Appearances). We were mighty grateful.
A River Runs through it.
Just down the road in Twisp, I met Jillian of The Noisy Plume! We had a tasty breakfast at the Glover Street Market (stop in for a smoothie or breakfast sandwich or waffle, then grab a bar or two of Molly’s Soap – you won’t regret it). As for the meeting, after the twitchy nervous-making beginning was melted and spent, there was much laughter and discovery and the baring of sweet souls. Happiness!
Up Next – Tieton!