Later in the Afternoon

Some days, as you look to the horizon in the east, it's so clear you can see all the way to Touchet--well, if not literally, then at least figuratively. There, in Touchet, on a hillock, above a golf course, is the grave of America Smalley, a child who tragically lost her life in a fire. Her grave is marked by a large, white wooden cross.

But this afternoon, despite the golden sunlight, coming from low in the western sky, there's an accumulation of purplish-blue clouds above the Cascades. Nevertheless, I see Touchet in my mind's eye, and that white cross on the hill.