November prairie

We just returned from North Dakota, which was all pale November light. I wonder if I’ll ever bore of every permutation of vast sky and weathered prairie. It doesn’t seem likely.

As the train approached our stop this morning, running along the shore of Puget Sound, Dean asked me where I felt most at home. I answered, “North Dakota is my homeland, and the Pacific Northwest is where I belong.”

Almost related but really not: The fateful whims of long library hold lists meant that I read Sherman Alexie’s memoir You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me this week as well. It’s brilliant, and I recommend it.

4 thoughts on “November prairie

    1. Thanks, Cindy. We just happened on the old farm school and it was exactly how I imagine they all looked (so how they were always described in books?)…

  1. Bethany, I fully understand β€œNorth Dakota is my homeland, and the Pacific Northwest is where I belong.” All my moves gave me a new adventure….don’t stop yet. Move while you’re young. It’s harder when you’re older. πŸ˜‰

    1. Oh, I think I’m quite settled. I’m just grateful I found this place I belong when I did, because I hear you on that part about it getting harder when you’re older. πŸ™‚

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