Cows
For all the cows on highway signs I didn’t see a single cow, just tumble weeds and a type of meadow sparrow that swooped dangerously close to my car. The grasses were golden in the sunshine and the mountains blue in the distance. For the first hour I drove I saw only two other cars on the road, both headed into the opposite direction towards Nevada. I decided that morning to go to Zion opposed to the Mojave or Death Valley. If I did camp again I didn’t want to spend another night sleeping in below freezing temperatures. I’d found fleece leggings at the goodwill in Utah but they’d become casualties in the great laundry freeze. Despite laying them out on my car before my hike yesterday, none of my clothes had dried. None of the clothes I had packed made any sense for this trip. I’d been experiencing considerable emotional distress. Further on I pass signs for wild horses, but the only one I see is a blood bay dead on the side of the road. I keep an eye out for ...