Throughout our travels in North Dakota, one thing has been a part of our daily conversations: the play of light on the landscape.
As Deb and I drove south and west through Solen, over to Cannonball, the beautiful buttes were brushed with a pink pastel; on our drive to Hettinger we noticed the slant of light, painting the horizon a gentle gold; and as we drove to Dunn Center, through the North Unit of Theodore Roosevelt, we saw light muddle the Little Missouri River.
When you've been away from North Dakota for awhile, and when you return, you notice subtlety. We've been greeted by pronghorns, noticed snow geese near Crosby, a coyote even decided to walk on a frozen lake in full view, and have counted numerous pheasant and deer on the prairie.
North Dakota is a land of vastness--the glaciers that moved through this part of the state have given us an open view of the world from horizon to horizon. The many ponds that dot Divide County look as if copper coins have been gently pressed into the landscape, and the lonely buttes of southern North Dakota help us to get our bearings. Both Deb and I are grateful for this, for the time spent in this landscape, and for the light we get greeted with every day in our workshops because of our students' discussions.