If you’ve been following me on Instagram, or read my post on Peanut Butter Cookies, you know I spent the last week or so traveling to Wyoming.
We traveled to my family’s small ranch West of Laramie, Wyoming. The drive was beautiful, minus a hiccup with our car that had us staying over in Des Moines an extra day and spending about 12 hours in a auto body shop.
We’ve been coming to the ranch off an on for most of my life. But this was the first time I feel like it’s hit me – these wide-open spaces for miles and miles in each direction. The fields have turned to a beautiful gold color, speckled here and there with green patches. The sky is so big. It’s insanely quiet. You really forget how quiet it can be. Like utter silence. There’s no background noise of air conditioners or cicadas or cars.
I grew up around mountains and took them for granted until we moved to the Midwest. In Wyoming, the mountains don’t seem that high, but then you realize that you’re standing at 8,000 feet, and that mountain behind you is 12,000. You can’t seem to comprehend how big they are until you’re standing at the bottom looking up, and they seem to shoot up to what feels like they're almost touching the sky.
Although we’ve come here all of my life, I find myself thinking about this place and it’s beauty more than any time I’ve visited before. There is so much I want to say about this trip. I’ve written pages of journal notes that I anticipated spilling out onto the blog but in the end, I figured I would just let the photos speak for themselves.