Forecast promised rain. In fact, first wave of storms had just passed. Radar said next band of rain wouldn’t hit for an hour. So I headed for the trail.
10 am. Nobody. I had the trail to myself. The trees on the bluffs were shouting their family crests, vivid colors framed in storm clouds.
On my deepest drives into America’s hidden heart, miles would pass before I’d see another person. Usually the person would smile and wave. Except for once.
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