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TripAdvisor Reviews Grand Hotel Big Timber
Travel Blogs from Big Timber
... and more gorgeous scenery. Pronghorns were abundant, and hilltops adorned garlands of yellow Montana blanket flowers, formed in the fashion of haloes on the crests. Little patches of beautiful purple fringe flowers popped up now and then, easily spotted amid the light green grasses. Eventually the limestone turned to pavement and the town of Livingston came into view; we motored into a hippy-dippy sweet grass bar pretending to be a bookstore. Far beyond enough said about that, then ...
... into Bozeman for a daily outing. A few bookstores, the dreaded Wal-Mart, and the scenic drive to and fro will be what the day pivots around. Today, I'll take a walk around the campground yards; probably stop back by the riverside and watch the water eddy and gulch around a big rock I spotted. It makes an eery, guttural sound as it sucks water down the side of the rock to the hollows: THUNK!
Riverside. Nowhere that I came across is the cliff ...
... A new day, a new dawn: a new life. Yesterday - no matter how good or bad - has ebbed back into the inky blackness of the mind's ocean. What will transpire to form the day into angelic beauty, or demonic torment?
I saw the galactic swirl in the firmament last night while sitting too long straddled to the bench fishing, not catching. I can barely straighten my legs, they feel better bowed; reminds me of the punchline to a joke: Hark! what manner ...
... to the creek for toe-dipping and fishing. Parts of the road were kind of bumpy; I kept thinking about how the first verse to Paul Simon's,The Obvious Child fits my current situation:
"I'm accustomed to a smooth ride
Or maybe I'm a dog who's lost its bite
I don't expect to be treated like a fool no more
I don't expect to sleep through the night"
June 27, ...
... Horses roam past the national park into private land. The hills are covered in grasses, yellow dwarf sunflowers, slim cactus and bushy sage brush. Thankfully there were no oddly painted Indians carved out of wood anywhere, standing with a constipated look on their faces; no headdresses to wear, no war whoops, nothing resembling a silly native American pastiche. As Joe Friday would say in monotone, "Just the facts."
Driving along, outside the windows rested an ocean ...