Paha Sapa (Lakota Sioux for The Hills that are Black)

We got started later this morning than previous travel days and both Carol and I were grateful for the extra sleep time.  After a leisurely breakfast of the surprisingly yummy hot food at the HI Express, we headed out for Mt. Rushmore, which turned out to be only 2 miles from the hotel.  It was sunny for part of our time there and snowed sideways again for the remainder.  Funny climates here in the Spring.  Mt. Rushmore was fantastic -- the four Presidents look down from their rock perch over a valley filled with more rock and coniferous trees.  Washington, Lincoln, Roosevelt, and Jefferson were carved by dynamite and chisel during the time when my parents were babies.  We saw a film about the making of the monument, toured the visitor center, walked around a bit in the wind and cold, took some pictures, and sprinted back to the car to warm up.  I overheard a guide say that there are over 3 million visitors to Mt. Rushmore during the summer season.  I'm glad we are here early even tho many hotels and restaurants and shops are not even open yet.  May 1st, or for some, Mother's Day, marks the beginning of tourist season.

Sailor had his debut as an official Service Dog and he performed as if he'd been doing this his whole life.  We took him along for the day, and I put his vest on him when we entered the park.  No pets are allowed in the area, but no one challenged me or him as he calmly stayed by my side.  At one point I was wearing my sunglasses outside and it became apparent that people thought I was blind.  It was actually kind of funny and interesting.  People made comments about how beautiful Sailor is and how he was "working" so they shouldn't distract him.  Little kids, however, had no qualms about asking to pet him and he treated it all with aplomb.  I was extraordinarily proud of the Boy, and he seemed to thrive during his work day.

After Mt. Rushmore, we decided to drive a bit through Custer State Park.  Mt. Rushmore is in the Black Hills National Forest, and the state park next to it is where curvy roads with hairpin turns give opportunity for a slow meander through trees, over one lane bridges, and through one car tiny tunnels.  We went in search of buffalo and were not disappointed.  After about a 40 minute journey we came upon an open area where there were a dozen BIG bison grazing, one quite close to the road.  He was about the size of our SUV.  Magnificent.  I took pictures (from the car) while Carol looked a little green around the gills -- this beast was on her side of the car and I rolled the window down so I could get good shots.  She didn't scream or panic when he looked her in the eye -- his eye was about 10 times the size of her eye.  We rolled up the windows and rolled away slowly.  It's wild to imagine what it would be like to be in a thundering herd of these amazing creatures.

On our way out of the Black Hills (so named because the pine needles look black from a distance), we pulled over on a "closed" road near a small rock outcropping.  I got out my Native American Flute and played a bit.  Carol got out our Mother's old Lutheran Book for Prayer and read the prayer for After a Death -- "Amid our tears, O Lord, we praise Thee as Thou has received our loved one to Thyself for all eternity...." and then we scattered some of our dear Aunt Ruthie's ashes in her beloved Black Hills.  This was something she'd asked me to do for her many years before she died, and I was pleased I could fulfill today the promise I'd made.  Carol and I both deeply loved our Aunt Ruthie (our Mother's youngest sister and the last to die of the 5 siblings).  Our Scandinavian grandparents homesteaded a farm on the eastern side of the state (where we're headed tomorrow) and altho the Sioux Falls area was "home" for all the Swanson kids, our Aunt Ruth always spoke so lovingly about the Black Hills and the time she spent in Western South Dakota working or vacationing.  Aunt Ruth had been born in 1925, schooled as a nurse at Augustana College (a stop for us on Monday after we drive east), went on to get her Master's in Psychiatric Nursing at Rutgers, and then another Master's and her PhD at New York University where she was a professor for more than a decade.  She referred to herself as a small town farm girl who'd gone to the big city for adventure.  She modeled many a fine quality for me and I miss her still.  Today a part of her returned to the earth of the forest she loved.  Rest in peace, Lois Ruth Ardis Swanson.  Rest in peace.

After our busy day in the National and State parks, we found a place to get a bite to eat, walked around the (currently) sleepy town of Keystone a while, and came back to the hotel to relax and try to warm up.  It was 38 today and it is supposed to be 80 by Tuesday.  Even tho much of the day was peppered with snow or rain showers, I still managed to get some color -- my face is pink from the South Dakota sun.  I feel my ancestors close here, my grandparents, my aunts and uncles, my Mother.  Tomorrow we travel to ground zero, the place where Anne Erickson and Reynold August Swanson farmed and raised their family of five.  Each of these five raised children of their own, and now those children have had children and those children have had children.  With my grandparents gone and my parents having passed, it is now my sister and I who stand in line as the next generation to go.  This doesn't make me maudlin or sad -- it seems only to reinforce the truth of the passing of time and the way of Life.  It is my hope that it will be many years yet before someone will be scattering my ashes in a forest or near an ocean, and the truth about it is that it WILL happen.  Somehow, this evening, in this beautiful and sometimes stark and ancient feeling locale, I find comfort in this.