Kim and I; the Sugar Shack, which was right down the street from my house and where I definitely ate one too many mozzarella sticks and drank one too many shakes!; the line between winter and fall.

Fremont Lake

Fremont Lake during the first snow of the year.

Pinedale's cow wall, the relatively new visitor's center that incited many meltdowns while I covered tourism board, and more Pinedale...

All of these are pretty self explanatory - the last one is the building where I worked while at the Roundup.

In order: the house in Pinedale where I once lived; Faler's (now called Ridley's?) General Store, where I bought many a frozen pizza; and more Sacred Rim.

pining for the moon

My friend Andrew convinced me to actually keep up with this blog, so here I am, at 10:36 at night, sitting in my friend Kim's house before going to bed and writing to you, my dear unknown reader, of things close to my heart. I am back in the place I truly have missed more than I believe it's possible to explain. It doesn't make much sense, I suppose, to miss a place where I lived only for six months, but Wyoming, and Pinedale, have such a pull on me. I felt so emotional that I almost cried when I crossed the border from Idaho to Wyoming, listening to Bob Dylan and Carrie Rodriguez and, passing Fremont, I breathed. Understand I love New York City and I know my time to really hunker down in Pinedale has passed, but I write secret love letters to Wyoming all the time, believing those thoughts will somehow meander across the country and land in the tree branches now covered in yellow and soon to be gloriously, genuinely bare.

sometimes, i will get a whiff of cumin and i will become disoriented, close my eyes, and believe, momentarily, that when i open them the rows of orange juice stands in Marrakech (a city of rose colored walls) will stand before me.
Alexandra Fuller has been in the news lately, and along with her Pinedale and Sublette County and i miss the harshness of Wyoming so much. i open my New York Times and am confronted with the dirt and the isolation and that sought after loneliness i lust after here in the land of SUV drivers doing lines of espresso off steering wheels. i miss the bone crunching cold and not having silence be something to conquer. i make so many promises, so many insha'Allahs that i will return - to wyoming, where a garage still holds a pair of long forgotten sandals and Morocco, where a country holds my heart.