I always forget how much I love and miss the mountains until I see them again. Don't get me wrong... I love the trees and gently rolling hills of the East Coast, but when I'm in the West, I love the mountains. On Wednesday, Deana met me after work and we rode bikes up Provo Canyon. It was the perfect way to spend a beautiful summer Utah evening... and the perfect push into the mountains of Montana.
On Thursday we drove to Montana for Josh's wedding. We stopped for a picnic at the gas station in Tremonton (my family is a picnicking family--always a picnic wherever we go--it's in the genes), where it must always be super windy. What a drive--through Idaho, past West Yellowstone, up the Gallatin River Valley, with mountains, the perfect river for rafting, incredible pines and aspens, and of course, wildlife. We saw a moose, antelope, deer, all kinds of birds. The sights and smells were invigorating.
The fresh air, the breathtaking vistas, the clean rain, the open space--I really think they make this God's country for me right now. And I have needed a piece of that.