Sixty-four colors

Candace and I drove up to Double Ditch a couple weeks back with the intention of writing, reading, soaking in the sunset, the sounds of prairie grasses, and the history. We had to arm wrestle Riley into coming with us.
It is sacred ground--no doubt--deserving of respect. But this is not always easy to do when trying to appease a 7 year old. That meant a stop at Wendy's on the way out to get chicken nuggets and fries, a southwest salad, and a spicy chicken sandwich.
So we pull into the circular drive, gather our things, take the paved path out to the blue bench and plop down. By now we have violated just about everything Clay Jenkinson mentioned in his recent Tribune article! But I think maybe we have achieved a balance of being able to enjoy the landscape, the sweet air, the caress of the breeze, and the symphony of crickets and grasshoppers mixed with the crunch of fast food bags, the odor of greasy fries, and the slurp of a fast melting frosty.
It was good for about ten minutes. Quiet was just settling in , the soul of the place was weaving into our minds and hearts, the taste of the air was replacing that of the spicy chicken and chili--when Riley informed us he had "to go."
So the sun didn't set on us from the beautiful buttes as we had planned. We didn't get a chance to fall into the grass and look up into the heavens, we didn't open Mary Oliver--Orion did not start his creep from eastern horizon to west. Instead we gathered our stuff, left the sun hanging like a family picture on a wall, and scurried back into Bismarck.
The thing is, the trip was beautiful in its own right. Far from perfect. Far from expectations. Far from simplicity. But beautiful. No doubt Crayola is jealous of North Dakota skies--hard as they may try, the colors can only be matched by the memories they burn into my mind. Each night when I lay down, I review these fleeting sunsets hoping they drift into my dreams. I see the colors again as I want to remember them, and am glad in my imperfection to be a North Dakotan, a husband, a father, and a friend.