And the Worst Blogger in the World Award goes to Kate Sims!
Seriously you guys, I’m sorry. I’ve been everywhere but here lately and, now that I’m booking clients, founding events (more on this another time) and moving my business forward, I’m not adjusting to the life-work balance quite as seamlessly as I’d hoped. In fact, I’m happily drowning in work, but every second that I’m working means I’m not writing for myself and maintaining this space, and no matter how I cut it, that just doesn’t work for me.
So let’s play catch-up and look at some photos from my Wild Wild West adventure. Today, let’s focus on The Badlands.
Badasslands* is more like it! Seriously, it’s like going to Mars. How are those land formations even real? How do they go from looking like extraterrestrial craters one moment to melting creamsicles the next?
As we drove through the Badlands National Park, my head was poking out the window with my camera to my eye as I snapped photos of the strangeness all around. After hours (and hours and hours) of the flat expanse of Pro-Life billboards and never-ending fields that is South Dakota, I was amazed by how starkly different and unique the badlands are. It was eerie, this sudden change in scenery, but it was beautiful and welcome, too.
Whilst winding along the wall and around hills, we saw a coyote (or was it a wolf?), scampering prairie dogs with screams like chirping birds, bighorn sheep (above), wild turkeys, bison and deer. At 244,300 acres, the Badlands are vast, and desolate, any every time we saw a living creature I was moved by their fortitude, ’cause whether you’re a beast or man, living in a place like The Badlands can’t be easy. As we wove along, my mind kept flashing back to games of Oregon Trail and I imagined how soul crushing it must’ve been to pull a covered wagon up to The Badlands, wipe the sweat of your neck and let out a low whistle thinking, Damn, we’re going to break so many wagon wheels and lose at least three kids to snake bites and dehydration on this here stretch. Those pioneers were brave people– if I’d come from Virginia and set my eyes on The Badlands, you can bet your butt I’d have turned around and gone back home.
Or maybe I wouldn’t have. Maybe I’d have ridden through The Badlands on the back of my pony and thought about how the patterns in the sand looked like melting creamsicles and daydreamed of petting a bison. Some things never change, after all, and my attraction to The Badlands will always endure.
*I almost made a sheep-noise pun about the Badlands but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. You’re welcome.