When I was knee high to the bovine bumpkin's in the rambling Iowa farm fields of my youth, I used to make the mile trek out to our pasture and creek nearly every day...by a variety of methods of transportation. Feet, bicycle, 4-wheeler, tractor, combine, truck, Jeep, skid-loader, etc. Once I crested the hill and gazed into the sweeping ravine that emptied into a meandering creek awash with cattle prints in the black mud presided over by the old, broken windmill at the top of the hill, I knew I was home. On those blistering summer days in the midwest, those days that make your upper lip sweat, there was only one place that provided any respite for the sweltering. The tile. A large culvert that poured the creek water from the farm field and into the pasture was like a little slice of icy heaven in my pork enriched youth. I pondered many of my adolescent life's problems, joys, and frustrations while laying in the cement tile feeling the ripples of water wash over my scabby knees and perma-dirty feet. Here's a few more places that are bonded to my heart like a sticky mouse trap. Where's yours?
*Summit of the Grand Teton
*A park bench on Peete's Hill in Bozeman with a pocket full of kleenex and my best friend.
*My first ice climb, Mummy 1, and the cute boy who took me :)
*Na Pali coast trail, Kauai, Hawaii.
*Vacas Valley, Argentina.
*Matukituki Valley, South Island, New Zealand.
*Northern Lights Saloon, Polebridge, Montana.
*The best first date ever...Practice Rock, Hyalite Canyon.
*Sunset ramblings with Kristen on the ridge saddle between Sacajewea and Hardscrabble.
*Ski Wee building, Sundown Mountain, Dubuque, Iowa.
*Pearl Street in Boulder the day after Jerry Garcia died.
*Saturday markets on the dock in Bergen, Norway.
*Cozy nights at the cabin on the Big Sis, eating cheese curds, drinking Leinenkugle's, and snuggling with the pea pods.
