Just Blowin in the Wind...

                                                                                                                                                                                       

On our return trip from Palouse Falls, we found ourselves headed down an unfamiliar roads in the farm and ranch lands of Southeastern Washington State, not far from the towns of Starbuck, Hay, and Dusty (Yes, they are real towns)

 Many of the small towns a mere memory of their former glory.

 

 And buildings but a wrinkle in time...

Each town exuding a history, a collective memory, and charm unique of itself.

 
                    We left each town with a feeling of sadness,

                                                 a nostalgic bidding to bygone times. 

 There is such beauty in the lush rolling hills of the Palouse.  A beauty that varies with the each crop, changing season, weather and even the time of day.



And there, just south of the Columbia River,
           I found a new crop being grown on the ridge tops of the rolling hills. 

 A crop of
        an
unorthodox
   planting.....

.

                                                                             to satisfy
                                                                                                unending
                                                                                                                 demand.

 


       A peaceful
           mesmerizing
                  setting.....                                                                 to ponder the worlds wonders.
                                                                                     

How many times must a man look up

Before he can see the sky?

The answer, my friend is blowing in the wind,

    The answer is blowing in the wind.  

                                                                               Bob Dylan