From Bakersfield, California we drove up into green mountains. Fairy-tale green under the sun, with fruit trees, the occasional vineyard, grass nurturing our eyes and the widely-spaced grazing cows. As we continued, the lush greenery faded to desert, and we drove through the day from California into Arizona. Just after sunset, we by-passed the truck stops and rolled into the Blake Ranch RV Park and Horse Motel in Kingman.

All day I was, as usual, aware that my eyes were reveling in the passing landscape. It made me feel good. But I knew that I was separated from it by glass, metal, plastic and speed, and that the deep intimacy of dwelling there was so far beyond seeing, and out of my ken.