After waking suddenly to a school of eerily still cows mysteriously gathered next to my rig, I wished them a good morning and a pleasant day of grazing (they seemed to want me to say something) and made myself a cup of coffee and drove onward through vast farmlands and quiet back roads until I came upon a couple of buffalo standing like sentinels at the entrance to Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge.
Within the refuge, there was a sign pointing toward something called the “Holy City” which intrigued me so I made the turn which led through a colony of prairie dogs toward a bunch of buildings made out of red rocks. Upon reaching the Holy City, I took one glance about, didn’t see Her anywhere, then turned around and hung out with the prairie dogs for a bit.
I find Nature far more spiritual than a bunch of man-made buildings and statues, but apparently everyone else thought the opposite because the Holy City was quite popular, while the poor prairie dogs received hardly any attention at all.
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