In early December I had the opportunity to visit my sister in Wyoming. I know that Montana is the one called The Big Sky state, but I think it has some tough competition in its neighboring state. I took my trusty (not rusty) 12-year old Honda on the trip, and was blessed to see some beautiful sights.
Driving through Provo Canyon, the waterfalls were all frozen, turning Bridal Veil Falls into Icicle Veils instead. Gorgeous. During winter months stopping in the canyon isn't allowed because of avalanche danger, but trust me when I say it was beautiful.
Out of the canyon, somewhere between Park City and Evanston, it was drizzling, the clouds were very grey and low in the sky. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked up and saw a bird, then did a double-take as I realized that it wasn't just a crow or hawk, but a bald eagle. It was the closest I've ever been to one outside of a zoo. He was flying low, under the clouds, and going almost as fast as I was, so I was able to watch him for quite awhile. I can definitely see why our country's Founding Fathers picked him as a symbol of our country. He was very dignified, graceful and independent.
One morning as I headed out to my car, I saw some footprints in the snow. No size 10 Nikes these, just hoof prints, and some Milk Duds. Not really, but if you want to believe a deer drops candy in the snow, feel free.
Every night presented a gorgeous sunset. This was all from one night, on the drive home to California, actually. It was amazing to watch the progression of it from yellow-grey to vibrant orange-black.