In Welsh/Brit much of landscape relationship is done through walking. But mine is a far vaster scene and I drove. So many miles and I slept along the way, beside the way, literally. For three years the circuit-riding was entangled with conscious theological thinking with no theos but with land for the Jesus, the tie between the supernatural and the human. No theology but geology. Perhaps it’s time for me to reclaim British literary styles but fill them with east slope metaphors.

The wind rocked me as I went. The weather was illustrated in the sky — Chinook arch, storm shelf, jet stream. Mountains, traces of the primal Bearpaw sea, the underground shelf that the Great Falls must fall over. Going through ecosystems, the connectome of the land.