Mile 126, Ryegrass Rest Area, Washington State.
Driving to a wedding in Montana. Backseat of my parents’ car. 2010
The Ryegrass Rest Area is the best rest area along my I-90 route. It’s either roasting or cold. There are inexplicable picnic tables set in the dusty sage. The pet area has signs all over warning to watch for rattle snakes. I always stop here to stand on top of the hill and look at the sage and windmills. It is beautiful and stark and smells really good.
Sonnet 30: When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time’s waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unus’d to flow,
For precious friends hid in death’s dateless night,
And weep afresh love’s long since cancell’d woe,
And moan th’ expense of many a vanish’d sight;
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o’er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restor’d, and sorrows end.