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from a painting by Featured Artist Terry Davis vol.193 ~ July 2017 by Gail Denham Astonishing, amazing, that's how I view these huge stretches of nothing we pass at 60 MPH. Miles and miles of nothing but flat land, scattered with stones, scrawny bushes and lava hiccups. Around us, hills change color all day. When the cliffs come close, we see cave shadows—could we live there? Each time we drive over a pass, the weather says "hot" or "rain" maybe. The days belong to the sky. Over against the hills, a rainstorm makes a lovely round downspout, like a funnel of sunshine from the clouds. The land sends echoes back to me, slurps in heavy rains. Small volcano mounds scatter across sand. The desert dries, cracks and shrivels, sometimes looking like scorched butterscotch pudding, with raisins. All that empty land, wide open spaces with only occasional ranches; no freeways, supermarkets or milling crowds make me sing with happy.
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