The meadows are on fire.

In the forests, some coniferous-looking trees are turning, too, and the hillsides are dappled with chartreuse. I wish I knew which trees those are. I need a tree finder.

We drove eight or nine hours today. We stopped for breakfast and gas at North Bend. Then lunch in Coeur d’Alene at the park by the lake. We ate the fried chicken and fried tubu Andrew made. Later, at a one-pump gas outpost, the pay phone on the lot rang and no one was around.

We listened to Cat Compilation II and Andrew didn’t make fun of it or ask to turn it off. I told him it was the electronic music equivalent of a poetry anthology by online journalers.

We’re in Missoula at the Sleepy Inn, where I stayed last time. The woman behind the counter hasn’t aged a bit nor washed her hair. When we paid for the room, she handed over the key and the remote control, the front of which was busted off so that the circuit board protruded from the black plastic case. It didn’t work with the TV, of course, so we took it back to her and she said she probably gave us the wrong one. We can change channels (in one direction only) from the bed now. We’re watching Behind the music on VH1. Bon Jovi.

The hot water faucet pours water no matter which way you turn it.