Saturday, Feb. 24, 2024

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Rupert Isaacson

It was one of those warm, lowering days when the cloudbanks hover so low and the air becomes so still that you know a storm
It was one of those warm, lowering days when the cloudbanks hover so low and the air becomes so still that you know a storm

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From up here on the snowy mountaintop, the desert stretched away to infinity, a muted mosaic of blue-gray sage brush and grasses turned brown, gold

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