Driving east on I84, past the cement plant at Lime, just past the Weatherbly turnoff, I saw HER. Stretched out across the rolling hills, prone, hair streaming out behind her, nose. chin, and breast pointed at the sky, arm resting on the slope of a hill at a 30 degree angle. sensuous neck, belly and thigh, slight hint of buttock as she turned away from me, ankles and wrists disappeared into the grass and rocks. Beautiful. Worthy of Borglun, but no human sculptor could have put her there, almost as tall as Everest had she stood. Though no worshipper of nature, the name "Gaia" escaped my lips. "What did you say," (my older daughter asked). "Look, do you see her"(I pointed) "lying on top of that ridge of hills, it looks just like a naked woman." "I think so, (said my nearly blind son). My spouse and daughters saw only the hills. "But they are magnificent", (Dianne said). I'm sure it didn't all happen just this way, but thats how I remember it, thirty-five years later.
Two years after that, I looked for her again, this time going west. She was still there. A few days later, returning home, I saw her again. A few years later, I could not see her going west, but coming back, she was there. Less distinct, or I less certain of my perception, but clearly there. Then next time, going or coming, she was gone, leaving no trace. Atter a while, I stopped looking for her, even stopped thinking of her. But I still look at the hills, and they are magnificent.