U.S. 395 between Reno and Carson City

My daughter and her husband live in Carson City, Nevada. When they stand in their yard and look at their world, they see barren hills covered with sagebrush. They drive to nearby Reno several times a week where they see more of the same.

I've lived in the South since the first grade. When I look out a car window, I expect to see grass, trees, beaches and swamps. Needless to say, U.S. 395 between Reno and Carson City looks like another world even though nearby Lake Tahoe is a  very inviting mountain lake.

My wife and I recently returned from our second visiting trek out to Carson City, this time to meet the new granddaughter Beatrice. What a cute kid. Of course, she's not yet old enough to notice she's living in a world of sagebrush. I often wonder what her older sister Freya makes of those endless tan hills. Freya will be 5 in January and, if her memory is no better than mine, her recollections of Indianapolis where she was born may well be faint ones by now.

I must say, though, that compared to the over-crowded Atlanta airport, the airports at Las Vegas and Reno are a breeze. Unlike the TSA personnel in Atlanta, the TSA folks out there don't yell at passengers or treat them like diseased cattle. I do fondly remember the days when the airlines flew larger planes on more routes: four hours gate to gate between Las Vegas and Atlanta is rather absurd in 2012. We used to get to San Francisco faster than that.

But, other than the air travel and the dry hills, our Carson City trip was a great chance to catch up with Freya and to meet Beatrice. We have tons of pictures, mostly of the family, of course, because the hills and sage aren't as photogenic.

Malcolm