|Wyoming's New State Sign.|
|Every town has a Butch Cassidy cabin.|
Driving west to Baggs I see a pronghorn buck by the side of the road. I slow down to take his picture but as my car approaches the antelope he looks up and lopes off. He stops some distance up the hillside, too far to get a good picture but close enough to appreciate his regal stance, his furtive glance. I get out of the car and the antelope moves farther away. A slight breeze rustles the sage in an otherwise silent setting. It’s what I come to Wyoming for. There is a kind of nourishment here you can'’t find anywhere else.
|The scene between Savery and Dixon.|
Near the town of Dixon an old rancher walks along the road. Behind him, in front of the barn, sets a tractor loaded with hay. In front of the tractor a fluffy black Keeshond sits stock still, waiting for his master to open the pasture's gate and deliver hay to the hungry cattle and horses. I imagine the Keeshond loves to run alongside the tractor, cavorting in the hay and with the livestock. The rancher nods and gives the “Western Wave” as I pass by. Entering Baggs I turn south toward Colorado and stop to take a picture of the new Wyoming sign.
|Fortification rocks and waterfowl marshes.|
Back in Craig I stop at the Serendipity Coffee Shop for lunch—a warm cup of coffee and a pastry nourishing my body as the two hour trip to Wyoming has nourished my soul.