Road-Trip Day One: Eastern Washington

The apples we didn’t buy at the fruit stand were from Chile, but the clerk was good looking and I assume that if I had asked her what she was doing after work she would have blushed a little and spoke to me of Ellensburg bars and Big Buck Hunter, but I had an itinerary and so I took my cherries and left.

These places in mid-July normally look like the crypt-keeper, but this year there had been rain and cold and rain into the would-be summer—so now the rolling hills under wind turbines are a mix of green and yellow—like the Sonics used to look.

I drove fast and wished I had read Don Quixote so that I could make some insightful connection between the classic and my unsettled thoughts and the giant white propellers—hopefully leading to some satisfying and beautiful conclusion. But I am not well read and I was in no mood for that level of introspection—so my thoughts returned to the clerk and our would-be Big Buck Hunter date.