Table For Two: Country roads, take me home

Winter in these northwesterly stomping grounds has left me a bit befuddled.

I've spent most of my life living in and near high mountain ranges. I am accustomed to winter days that are cold, crisp, snowy, and **here's the clincher** sunny.

As evidenced by the view out the airplane window, however, something has come between me and that lovely orb in the sky: an iron-clad layer of cloud cover.

Flying out of Portland ~ January 2010, by Katie

So I fled the overcast forecast this past weekend and wandered back to my hometown for a visit.

It wasn't until I stepped off the plane in Idaho this weekend that I realized just how much this waterlogged gal has missed the crayola colors of a mackerel sky.

{Yes, the sky really was that blue.}

Altocumulus front outside of Boise, ID ~ January 2010, by Katie

I was so taken with glimpses of sunshine, I didn't really care whether I was coming or going; I added a solid hour to the drive trying to catch an extended taste of my home state.

Mountain Home, ID exit ~ January 2010, by Katie

I've recently realized a particular trait that is ingrained in my personality... not that this tendency is new, rather, it is a new awareness. I rediscover this characteristic every time I wend my way home:

It is that I dearly love a slice of solitude. Especially if that solitude is cradled in a wide-open space. Idaho is thick with such spots. You may see something desolate and exposed in all that sagebrush. I see stark beauty and the space for a soul to run wild and not be hemmed in. Room for the sun to shine.