There is something about a flat landscape that goes against part of my being. I have lived much of my life in places where the sky starts where the mountains stop. In such a place weather comes at you all at once with little warning. Out where I am in a land scape that is on the average flat, every hill seems to be matched with a lake of a depth to match the height of the hill. I imagine that if all the hills could be ground flat and all the lakes infilled the north would turn into a knee deep mud puddle. The advantage of this terrain is the weather can be seen coming.
Fronts come and go, not jumping out from behind the mountains but as a feature of there own working its way across the plains. So yesterday I failed to go for a walk, but feeling fuzzy I stuck my head out side into the court yard of the camp.
A steady wind from the southwest was bring in new weather, changing it to a cooler wetter state. But as it was changing the clouds got interesting, the last of the thunder heads were dying as the front moved in and the setting and adding beautiful light.