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The ride back to Santa Fé was something under four hundred miles. The
weather alternated between blinding sandstorms and brilliant sunlight.
The sky was as full of motion and change as the desert beneath it was
monotonous and still,--and there was so much sky, more than at sea,
more than anywhere else in the world. The plain was there, under one's
feet, but what one saw when one looked about was that brilliant blue
world of stinging air and moving cloud. Even the mountains were mere
ant-hills under it. Elsewhere the sky is the roof of the world; but
here the earth was the floor of the sky. The landscape one longed for
when one was far away, the thing all about one, the world one actually
lived in, was the sky, the sky!The Big Field: a Child's Year
Under the Southern Cross-- a
children's book by Anne Morddel
Tips on Writing a Nature
Journal from the pages of Henry David Thoreau's Journal.
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Last updated on 9 January 2012.