Into Wyoming

What I most admire about Wyoming is that everything not needed has been taken away, everything except what might be needed sometime in the future, the old car or the window frames or the sacks of cement piled up on top of one another in the weeds behind the little wooden house, because they might come in handy.

They never will come in handy. They'll just sit there until Wyoming itself takes them away, either hauling them up into the big sky or covering them with the tall wild grass that turns gold in late summer.

Another thing; every time I come to Wyoming I ask myself why I don't come here more often. I know the answer, but ask the question anyway.