gratitude: under Wyoming’s spell

Brace yourself – I’m about to hit full on hippie chick mode.  We’re talking earth loving, birkenstock wearing, find-your-bliss granola girl.  (Side note: I readily recognize that my twenty-year-old self would not have understood a word I’m blabbering on about.)

I am so grateful for the glory of this planet of ours.  (Yes, I’m horrified by the damage we’re doing, but that’s a post for another day.)  We’ve been blessed to visit many different areas of the world, and this week I’m discovering Wyoming.

Apparently many people (or not so many, if you’re into the U.S. census) have already learned what a peaceful and steadying force this amount of nature can be.  And by “this amount of nature” I mean a lot of nature.  It’s the sort of sweeping geographical scenery that hits you smack dab in the face every time you look out a window or step outside.  Wyoming’s all BAM!  Here’s the nature.  Take that, stressed out people.

You get in your car to drive somewhere, and what’s out there?  Land.  As far as the eye can see.  Surrounded by mountains.  Freaking tall and majestic mountains, the kind they write songs about.  And the animals are all chill because people aren’t hunting them into extinction, so you get to watch herds of bison meandering, antelopes nibbling grass, and moose being all…moose-y.

Talk about a place where you can really breathe.

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