Naturally Gorgeous

Today I’m still telling the tale of yesterday’s misty morning drive. Gliding along the verdant valleys of Idaho, the fullness of its curves was so enticing, and so soothing to eyes that had awoken to clinical light and bare plastic. Each hill brought green upon green upon green, naturally gorgeous. The tips of grass and pine needles glistened with the cool nourishment offered by low-lying fog. A twist in the road revealed the Snake, a river lying at the feet of a shaggy crag, mist hanging in the air like white, diaphanous drapery.

On the approach to the youngest of American mountains, I felt giddy with anticipation and the wonder of discovery, alive with childhood eagerness, leaning toward the window, inching closer to the bare, cool stone. The Tetons are indeed grand. Their exuberant effort surges upward, while Jenny Lake abides below, still and bright, with an ease that is true to nature. The trout jumped high, using water to escape water, gone from sight in an instant. Even the insects seemed vital as they buzzed excitedly about.

Leaving the park, riding the long, long flat road, I wondered how the mountains had ever been found, how anything special had ever been found amidst the plainness of life, such scenes being easy to miss by miles.

Yet, this morning, it is my smile that is warmed when the waitress asks whether she can reheat my pancake, the one that has grown cold while I was talking on the phone with a dear, dear friend left behind in California. Who could miss the gorgeousness right here in a dingy restaurant a few dusty miles from the fast highway through Nebraska?