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THE WEST    •    As a young girl, growing up in Oregon and then Southwest Colorado, I would spend entire days roaming the countryside, building hidden tree forts and plucking praire-fire bouquets.  I remember laying on my back in the cool grass, watching giant clouds sail aglow through the sky, lighting up my face with yellows, pinks and oranges that streaked the heavens.  I would ride in my dad’s truck on the dusty country roads with the windows rolled down and Neil Young turned up…sometimes I would get to drive on the way to the dump. When the first frost came each year, we would pull out our skis and boards, hats and gloves, and dream about the magical white pillow that awaited us in the winter months to come. And in the blink of an eye, spring had sprung and life was born anew.  The West is more than my childhood home; it’s that wonderous feeling of freedom, my dreamscape, my heart song. The West can swallow you whole if you let it. A glittering magic sweeps over and clings to your warm, sticky skin like a fine red dust, wooing you away from the gravity of the real world, inviting you to become one with the wild and untamed West.

 

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