I don't think I have words to describe the drive from Denver, where I stayed with a friend from high school; to Albuquerque; and then to Sedona, where I stayed with another friend from highschool. The hard, plain-spoken poetry of the Nebraska plains gives way to the Homeric epics of the southwestern landscape. Every kind of geology was evidenced. Mesas, red rocks, plateaux, ridges, chimney rocks, extinct volcanos, snow-capped mountains, canyons. The colors of the landscapes ranged from bleached, pale golds to brasses, bronzes, coppers and dark iron. If you stuck the earth, it would probably ring like a bell. Rocks tinted with the murrey signal of Manganese. Soft sage greens to astonishing bright turquoises against the pink dirt. No, the gold dirt. No, the white sandstone.
I met up with my friend in Flagstaff, and then we drove on to Sedona through the Oak Creek Canyon. That drive in itself was a religious experience. I expect that my head will explode when I get to the Grand Canyon.