I went to sleep last night thinking of my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Davenport. Blanche Davenport was just the sweetest lady; mild tempered, a pleasant smile, soft-spoken, and very slight in stature. She was perfect for a room full of squirmy five-year-old children because she never raised her voice; we had to be quiet if we wanted to hear what she had to say next. And we always did; she was captivating! The most memorable thing to me is that Mrs. Davenport had the most beautifully thick, wavy white hair. She was quite a handsome woman and I loved her dearly.
Getting ready for bed last night, I looked at myself in the mirror and noticed, in the almost blue bathroom light, that I had quite a few new gray hairs framing my face. They probably weren't new; in brushing my hair back from my face, they were just more visible. (In fact, as I looked in the mirror, I saw my brother Mark's familiar salt-and-pepper hairline. I think he looks so distinguished...) I was pleased to see that my new additions were really white and rather coarse - and actually a bit wavy! I've never had anything but fine, straighter-than-straight hair (except when I went through the 'permanent' phase). Suffice it to say, I was pleased to see the change; hopeful, even, that I may someday have a shock of white hair like Mrs. Davenport's.
People like Mark and Mrs. Davenport, who seem to be comfortable, confident and at peace with themselves, make me feel centered and at ease.
I felt that way all day yesterday. The visual trigger was, I think, the color (or is it the lack of all color?) 'white.' As Denny and I drove the Chief Joseph Scenic Byway northward through the Sunlight Basin area, backtracking over Beartooth Pass, and finally winding our way into Cooke City, MT, we were visually assaulted by whiteness.
From the wild waterfalls of melting snow,
to sunshine bouncing off rock faces,
to big fluffy clouds that seemed close enough to touch, to the foamy head on our Moose
Drool draft beer, we were surrounded with all manners of white. 
When we were at the west summit of Beartooth Pass, I turned with my camera to capture the sights below and was delighted to realize that we were soon to be overtaken.
A snow shower was closing in on us quickly; almost before we knew what hit us, the snow was swirling all around! The panorama before us was blanketed in white. It was delightful and I felt, in that quiet beauty, that we were surrounded by dancing angels.
It was a splendid day - heavenly for the washed-whiteness of it all. One that I will not soon forget! : )
