Adding to my collections of homesteads in places like Vermont and Wyoming is today’s shot from outside Park City, Utah. Looking closely, you can see the array of vehicles in the landscape, looking extra-miniature against the mountains beyond.
A family farm on a hillside in northern Vermont at the start of winter is like an empty table, ready to be set for a meal. These and other folksy aphorisms, brought to you by a digital eye on a flying robot stabilized by orbiting artificial satellites and electronic gyroscopes. The future is excellent!
Along Interstate 80, stretches of winter Wyoming are wide and barren like I wouldn’t have believed.
In a few stretches, mountains or wind farms crop up in the distance.
But it’s perhaps this image of an orange house, like something from a mid-twentieth-century landscape painting, that best captures the experience.
Transcontinental driving in the dead of winter is all about dodging storms—but no one’s perfect. In the emptiness of Western Nevada, with only an occasional RV/farm combo to keep us company, the edge of a major storm ran into the setting sun.
“Post-apocalyptic” was the general vibe. The landscape was so large as to be without scale; I couldn’t tell you the actual height of the hills in the distance.
Even on this bright afternoon before a winter blizzard clamped down on central Wyoming, the cold and isolation of the state is astonishing. Each homestead seems mostly isolated, and the rolling hills give the illusion that the curvature of the Earth has been flipped inside-out. First settlers on a ringworld?