Looking out from the sandy cliff, I see the valley where I live. I haven't always lived here.  My grandfather lived north of here in the Sand Hills. There are so few people that live in this part of the state (other than the Scottsbluff area) that some counties do not have enough residents to be "rural" but instead have the designation "frontier." 

We have an wide assortment of flora, from deciduous to succulents. As long as it is hardy enough to withstand dry summers and autumns, followed by long harsh winters, it is likely to survive.

The sandstone and limestone monuments in the valley are slowly disappearing with the wind, the rain, and harsh weather that is often found in Western Nebraska. Chimney Rock, once a landmark for travelers moving west on the Oregon and Mormon trails, has eroded noticeably over the last several decades, and I wonder if I will see its demise in my lifetime.

The wagon wheel marker below indicates the halfway point on the Mormon Trail. Chimney Rock is visible in the background.

Scotts Bluff Monument is the largest in the valley, split into more than one bluff with a two-lane road through the middle. As I drive through the monument, it is exciting to imagine what the pioneers must have thought when they traveled the same path.

You may also recognize this road from the movie "Elizabethtown" with Orlando Bloom.

The tallest part of the Scotts Bluff monument is below.

North of this valley is the Sand Hills, a desert covered with a fragile layer of soil and prairie grasses. Under the Sand Hills is the Ogallala aquifer, one of the largest natural aquifers in the US.

(Below, the Sand Hills from space) I did not take this one, obviously.

Info on wikipedia for research junkies: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sandhills_(Nebraska)

While many people make their living as ranchers, the Sand Hills are mostly unsuitable for farming. As people move their lives closer to urban centers, there is the occasional vacant homestead or school to be found, if you are lucky enough to find them still standing.

Naked trees are the reminders of tornadoes that have sucked the branches and leaves off some trees while leaving others unharmed.

I drive this quiet highway, considering those who have gone before me by wagons, wondering where the pioneers of the West found shelter? This landscape is nearly treeless, and the dirt made of sand. A hot summer day easily reaches 100 degrees and the wind blows, relentlessly.

I drive over the next rise in the road and I am amazed at what I see: the Pine Ridge, with thousands and thousands of evergreen trees just a few minutes from the treeless hills I just visited.

Where the sandy prairie meets the pine, the landscape has drama. I pull the car over as I think through the unlikelihood of what I have just seen.

The unusually wet spring has created a green scene that is alive in every direction.

 And just as there is new life, there are also signs of the end of life.

Thousands of ants help return this dead log to the ground from whence it came. The fallen tree moves with the business of decomposition. My 3-year-old daughter considers the ants:

 We leave Chadron State Park in time to hear the warnings of storms coming from the south. It wouldn't be Nebraska in the late spring if there weren't thunderstorms coming.

 The sun is setting as the storm is now to my east. The dusk shines golden against the dark bluish green storm clouds, a beautiful striking contrast.

 I stop again to take a picture of one more dilapidated house, with Maxfield Parrish clouds in the distance.

I have seen sunsets all over the world: Southern California, Key West, Barcelona, Rome, and sunsets from inside an airplane, but my favorite sunsets are still right here at home in Nebraska.

And one more picture of my inspiring 3-year-old who was my faithful companion on our long hike: