Little Camper on the Prairie

Early morning and I sit a gaze at the South Dakota prairie--so I will leave you with a few pics and a story of yesterday's adventure.

Tuesday. What happened to the days of road trips that had mom in the passenger seat with her road map stretched across the dash board, the kids in the back seat playing I Spy and license plate games, while dad sang corny vacation songs? No, in 2007 this family rolled down the road with the voice of "sexy lady" alerting us to merge on I-29 and I-90, a feature film on the small screen--RV starring Robin Williams and Fleetwood Mac's The Dance boomed on the mini-vans surround sound. All the while D kept true to one road trip caviar of the past; the license plate game. We bought her sticker book of all 51 license plates to spot; without warning you can hear her 12 year old gasp at the thrill of finding a California plate on I-29 while the wheels roll through South Dakota.

South Dakota. I can understand why people want to live here. The rolling hills that change colors of greens casted by the blue sky and sunshine above. The grass plant that blows across the prairie in a domino effect, yet popping up straight again to repeat. The rock formations of the Badlands. All breath takenly beautiful.

But to understand what chased our pioneers from this Badlands was to feel the light breeze of the daytime to turn to a roaring wind of the night. The camper's tent end bounced about--not quite sure if I should sweat fear or let it lull me to sleep like a baby in a cradle.

I suppose I took the lull of a cradle.