When I was a child my mom and I would go out to Sheridan, Wyoming for two weeks a summer to visit my Aunt, Uncle and first cousins Ben and Heather. We would go in June or July, but I can’t remember the last time that we visited that the rolling, grassy hills and mesas around their house were green. By the time we arrived they were always baked a light beige with the red clay soil and rocks peeking through. It was a real treat to head out to Wyoming for a family gathering last weekend and be pleasantly surprised to see that the hills were still green, contrasting the roads and soil of red rock. I love it out on the range because I feel like these small roads stretch forever towards the horizon, the air is permeated with the smell of sage brush, and the sky is huge and expansive, giving me a sense of space, freedom and possibility. While Montana holds the official title, I would say with confidence, that Wyoming is also big sky country.

There’s more photos on Flickr.