I drove through Heaven yesterday. State route 395 southbound 
through Washington, from Spokane to Pasco. Most of it was dull 
and uneventful, alot like driving through Montana if you aren't 
interested in hardy plants and mountain ranges. Over a rise I 
drove into a landscape of gently rolling hills coated with 
stubble from some crop or another. There were irrigation machines
in the fields (pipes with wheels on them) and scrub plants down 
the banks and in the gravel at the side of the road. I couldn't 
see any houses, I couldn't see any sky. The clouds were low and 
in spots seemed to be reaching down to caress the hills in the 
distance. In spots there were shots of sun coming from who knows 
where, creating godlike beams of yellow-white light, and in other
spots there were slight intimations of blue or bluelike
indentation in the feathery/cottony clouds where the sky might 
be. All of the world was covered in a light filligree of frost, 
everything was delicate and sensuous in beauty. Nothing was dark 
or of any specific color; only white. Even the shadows as they 
fell along certain hillsides where the sunlight could not reach 
or where the beams of light struck uneven ground were not 
shadows; they were comforting variations of ornate white design.

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