My wife is convinced that 500 feet above sea level is not high. I think it’s high enough to keep the water away and, frankly, that’s about all I care about .
We have left Seattle and are on our way to Glacier National Park on our way back East. As we go through northern Washington, nature seems to make her point. We start way above sea level (2000 or 3000 feet) and every once in a while, a mountain shoots out of the ground, going even higher. Less frequently, but more amazingly, a snow-covered peak appears.
“Down” here at our level, there are ecosystems (plural) — scrub brush and wildflowers, trees of all sorts, and rushing rivers. Houses dot the land, as do train trestles and old dusty brick buildings.
The wind, sun, and clouds are felt as a presence here. You feel at one with nature here, and there’s a lot of it to feel at one with.
Rocks are cut by the wind (or maybe in the past, by water) in all sorts of ways. There are buttes, there are individual rocks that have holes blown through them where they were thin. Large stones lie here, as well, surrounded by the grass and shrubbery.
The hills just *roll* here. You can picture wagon trains going through here, but how they got them up this high, I cannot imagine. One section if hills gives way to another set for miles and miles.
My wife points out frequently that there’s nothing like this in New England. She’s right. We have trees alive with fire in the Autumn on our beautiful hills. Here they just have sky– beautiful, expansive sky.