That makes me sound unhappy and bored and exhausted, doesn’t it?

It wasn’t my best morning. I was punchy and cranky and tired. I snapped at Earl, she snapped back. It was the snippiest we’ve been the entire trip.

I had hoped to get down to Grand Teton National Park while we were at Yellowstone. I was crabby from the realization that we simply cannot do it all. It was a two hour trek down to the west entrance of Yellowstone from Bozeman, then who knew how long across the park, then maybe, just maybe, we could make it as far as Cody, MT, for the night. Gah. The Tetons were out.

I wanted more time. I wanted things to be closer together. I wanted roads to stop being under construction. I wanted my child to get up and put her clothes on and brush her teeth and help me pack up just once.

There was an older couple loading their car in the middle of both lanes under the hotel’s awning, and it was pouring rain. I needed to rearrange the car again because when you take things from the bottom out, things from the top collapse into the gaps and suddenly nothing fits.

I loaded in the rain, Earl whining the entire time because what was taking me so long? The road down to Yellowstone was cloudy and foggy and dreary, and the hopes I still held were quickly sagging. I wanted to cry.

It was not a great start.

Things have a way of looking up, though, even when we’re looking down.

We took a few minutes at McDonalds in West Yellowstone, MT, to regroup—or perhaps group—and come up with some iota of a plan.

Waterfalls it was, because waterfalls make everything better.

Airborne small wildlife doesn’t hurt either.

When we walked to the furthest overlook at Gibbon Falls, we did so in step, our arms around each other and apologizing for the suckiness of the day so far. Forgiveness makes things prettier.

By the time we walked back toward the car, the chipmunk was even happy to see our improved dispositions and posed in celebration.

The sun finally came out, too, which helped tremendously.

Yellowstone is essentially a huge volcano, and I’d read that there were a couple of spots where you could make out some of the rim of the caldera.

It’s there somewhere. I think I see it, then I don’t. It’s not the cliffs—that’s the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone. I think it’s the treeline just this side of it.

We stopped at the Canyon Village Visitor Center to learn more about the volcanic history of the area and to pick up some rain jackets because, hi, it was raining. Again.

You know bears are a real issue when there is a Bear Spray Rental station.

Not that that means you’ll see any bears while you’re at Yellowstone. If you’re us, you’re more likely to see rain and brake lights.

It wasn’t that late, but the day was wearing thin on us already. I insisted on driving the rim of The Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone to see the falls on the Yellowstone River. Earl took up coloring in the car and didn’t want to get out.

I didn’t blame her. Rain and all.

Even with the clouds, the colors and textures of the canyon were incredible.

I convinced Earl to get out of the car long enough to snap a shot with the Buddy Bison she’d snagged in the Visitor Center. We wish we’d had Buddy earlier in the trip because Buddy would have been so many cool places with us!

That’s the face of a thrilled child, isn’t it?

Don’t let her fool you. She did have some fun. Especially when the sun came out again.

It’s always fun to be embarrassed by your mother singing the opening chant to The Lion King at top volume!

I just wished it would pick a weather pattern already. Do I dress for cold and rain? Or sun and warm? Make up your mind, Yellowstone!

Our last waterfall was the upper falls of the Yellowstone, which was beautiful despite the, you guessed it, RAIN!

The weather must have been making the animals antsy, too, because as we made our way toward the East Entrance of the park, they were out in full force. There were many close encounters of the bison kind.

As we headed out, the skies cleared, and Yellowstone and her elk cows bid us a fond farewell.

But not before I took in some views of Yellowstone Lake.

Earl stayed in the car while I snapped pictures. At one point, I thought I’d have to battle a raven to get back behind the wheel.

He must have sat there and stared at the door for a solid minute. Perhaps he wanted a quick way out of the crazy weather as thunder was rumbling again.

The east side of the park had the freshest wildfire damage of any we’d seen, and the most widespread. Bare trees were everywhere, giving it a surreal and eerie feeling.

At my last photo stop, we not only got a great shot, but we saw a pica, too!

With that, we were finally out of the park I never thought we’d escape. Not that I didn’t enjoy Yellowstone thoroughly, I was just still in a bit of a leftover mood.

The scenery didn’t stop, though, as we made our way through Shoshone National Forest toward Cody.

The sun set on us at a joint we spotted on the side of the road—a restaurant at an RV park that looked promising for the middle of nowhere.

Buddy enjoyed it. And so did we.

But, glad to see an end to a not-epically-wonderful day, we enjoyed our beds that night even more.

There is perhaps no better way to start a day hundreds of miles from home than finding a little bit of home just around the corner from your hotel.

So we slept in. We’re getting tired. By the time we left the hotel, it was lunch, and I turned to Yelp for help.

“Eat at Roost,” it said. “Good comfort food. Somebody says it’s their favorite restaurant in the whole country. Give it a whirl.”

Okey-doke. Roost Fried Chicken it was.

Forget love at first bite. This was love at first sight. There’s a See Rock City bird house in the front window!

We were immediately home sick. Then we looked at the menu. I might have shouted. People standing in line may have turned around to look at me.

I didn’t even want the extra pickle chip, but the whole restaurant sure thought I did.

The crazy Bama fan and her child continued to have fun while we waited for our food.

Then the skies opened and the angels sang and goodness was placed before me.

Fried chicken, fried okra, mac and cheese (with bacon!), boiled peanuts, and a Coke.

I did not eat it all. I did not even come close. But I took the art of savoring to a whole new level. Earl finished her Chicken-on-a-Stick long before I was done. She stared at me boredly as I chewed.

“Can we go?”

“Give me a minute.”

“It’s been a lot of minutes.”

Touché, my child.

It’s not often I come across a restaurant that I love enough to insist on leaving with a t-shirt and hat, but buddy, I sure did from Roost. Except they didn’t have their signature “Presheatecha” t-shirt in my size. Dangit.

Yellowstone greeted us with a traffic backup caused by an elk cow in the river.

I’m not complaining. It was cool, and everybody seemed content to deal with a little traffic tie up for a spot of wildlife.

A couple of miles down the road, though, people headed north on Grand Loop Rd. were not quite as content.

That bison strolled down that lane for ages, peering into oncoming cars and completely unaffected by the eventual 3.5 mile line of cars backed up behind him before Rangers were finally able to convince him to pull over into a turnoff so faster cars could pass.

If there’s a creature you do not mess with in Yellowstone, it’s the bison. People (who have a lick of sense) have an innate knowledge that you give bears a wide berth or stay away from things with massive horns, but bison appear docile. In reality, they’re ornery, temperamental, can run 35mph, and are capable of jumping 6 feet in the air. It was recently discovered by one woman from Mississippi that they also don’t like selfies.

Bison roadblock cleared, Earl and I returned to the Old Faithful Visitor Center where she checked out a backpack full of supplies to complete her Young Scientist badge work.

We walked the geyser basin looking for minerals by color and using the infrared thermometer to check out the temperature of the ground and pools around us.

We spotted features with connected plumbing like Anemone Geyser and its buddy.

We checked out hot springs that were bubbling gasses from deep within the earth and compared them with Ear Spring, which was actually boiling at the surface.

There were geysers of all sizes around us, spurting or erupting or steaming.

Earl spotted bison tracks in the bacterial mats and surmised the bison use the heat of the area to keep warm in winter.

The colors were not as vivid as I had hoped—there were none of the deep blues and greens I remember seeing years ago at Rotorua in New Zealand. I later found out that we missed the real marvel of hot springs in Yellowstone. A return trip is necessary. I must see Grand Prismatic Spring. Kicking myself for that one.

Not to take away from what we saw. It was impressive in its own right.

We sat down in one of the nearby lodges and worked on her booklet. Three hours worth of scientific study and observation in a National Park while on vacation is a tall order, but my kid tackled it with remarkable aplomb. She had her moments, but that was when I was there to help her along and give her a little boost. In the end, she earned her patch and the hearty congratulations of another Park Ranger. From me, she earned a stuffed bison. She named him Yell O. Stone. I call him Roadblock.

Of course, you can’t spend all afternoon in Upper Geyser Basin and not take some time to watch the pot that is Old Faithful boil over and erupt again.

Earl wanted to wander through the cluster of fallen trees between Old Faithful and the Visitor Center. It didn’t take long for her to find a natural see-saw and a friend.

I practically had to drag her away from the trees and Old Faithful, but the sun was setting and food was necessary.

Another late night, but in the long run, the memories and experiences mean so much more.

Besides, I’m hoping by the time we get home and start heading toward school starting back that Earl is ready to go to sleep at a decent hour for a change.

It might work.

I’m from Tennessee, where we often joke the that orange and white traffic barrel is our state flower.

Welcome to beautiful Montana, where, when they go to fix a road, they fix a road. Like, pull the whole sucker up, make you drive single file on dirt for miles escorted by a pilot car, and redo the whole road.

At least, that’s what it seems.

We drove out of Glacier into road work. Slept in Great Falls and started out again in road work. Drive, road work, drive, road work.

To El Jefe who constantly encourages me to keep my car washed: It is pointless in Montana, for there will always be more dirt. I’m doing good to keep the windshield clean enough to see.

The first time was truly disconcerting. I was driving down a state highway, no slouch of a road, and the pavement just ended. There had been road work signs, sure, but nothing that told the lowly Southern girl, “HI! Here in Montana, we dig up the whole road when we do roadwork. The next 10 miles will be more rutted than Aunt Imogene’s driveway in the 80’s.”

Good times.

Anyhoo…

I’m starting to prefer driving the highways of America to the interstates of America. You find cooler stuff off the beaten path, especially up here where interstates are far fewer and the highways come with faster speed limits. Randomly, you’ll stumble across enormous statues or road placards or street names that are fascinating. Like Thunder Jack there in Shields Valley near Wilsall, MT, which seems home to little more than Thunder Jack, a plethora of roads named after Lewis and Clark and Sacajawea, and a post office.

Wait! A post office! We finally found a place with enough postcard stamps to send the 52 postcards I’d been accumulating in my purse since the Hoover Dam!

Because, let’s be honest, I don’t have the patience to put quarters in a postcard stamp machine to get five stamps at a time when the post office will sell them to me in rolls of 100.

We had reservations to stay in Bozeman, MT, but Earl and I decided we’d run on down real quick to see a bit of Yellowstone and scout it out for the next day.

Have you ever been to Yellowstone? Then you get the joke.

There were elk cows lazing around in the middle of everything in Mammoth Hot Springs, which was thrilling for both Earl and myself. Wildlife! Up close and personal! In a parking lot! Where nobody will fuss if I park to take a picture!

Don’t get close to the cows, though. They’re huge, and they pack a mean punch. So we were told numerous times by various park rangers.

Our first stop at any National Park is the Visitor Center to get Earl a Junior Ranger booklet. The VC at Yellowstone was also where I got my first clue of the true scope of Yellowstone. This was not going to be a “drive around the loop road once and you’ve basically seen it” National Park. Yellowstone is enormous. It was going to take time to see even a small part of it.

But on this trip, taking the time is the name of the game.

Storms were looming not far from the VC, but that didn’t stop us from running up to the first of many geothermal basins in the park. Hot springs abound in the northern end of the park—the geysers are mostly down south—and I was excited to show Earl their spectacular colors.

On that first stop, she (and I, if I’m being honest) was more worried about not getting hit by lightning. I’m not sure she saw much. I saw it, though. And I have plenty of pictures to help her remember in a couple of years when she’s forgotten.

Yellowstone showed us that first day how fickle its weather can be. Part of that is due to its sheer size. Part, I’m sure, its geography and geology. And part, well, it’s summer. Five miles down the road, it was glorious.

Yellowstone, like Montana, has a lot of road work going on this summer. Like Montana, they also completely demolish roads to rebuild them. We spent a lot of time parked and waiting, then driving for long stretches behind pilot cars.

We stopped once to go peek at the Norris Geyser Basin, but a slip of the foot earned us our first injury of this trip—a skinned knee—instead.

Park Rangers are wonderful people with bandaids in their backpacks who are willing to help out even if they’re off duty.

Unfortunately, they don’t carry Junior Ranger badges in their backpacks, and Earl was starting to get antsy about making it to another Visitor Center before they closed for the day. We’d attended a Ranger talk on wildlife at the first Visitor Center, and she’d finished the rest of her booklet while we were stuck in construction traffic. The Park Ranger with the bandaid assured us that the Old Faithful Visitor Center was open until 8, and if we left then, we should have just enough time to get there; it was only an hour away.

Did I mention that Yellowstone is HUGE?

“You mean Old Faithful is here? In this park?” Earl asked, hobbling back to the car.

“In Yellowstone? Yeah. I thought you knew that.”

“I didn’t! I’m just a kid! You have to tell me these things! I get to see Old Faithful!!”

(Proof that somebody tunes me out. I’d woken her up that morning with a made up song about seeing the Old Faithful geyser at Yellowstone, and had mentioned it no fewer than four times since we’d been in the park.)

We arrived at Yellowstone at 4:00 in the afternoon. By the time we got down to Old Faithful, it was knocking on 8.

Earl merrily handed over her sixth Junior Ranger booklet of this trip and was sworn in. She also asked about the Young Scientist program and proclaimed we would be back tomorrow to do that!

We had just enough time to snag dinner in the cafeteria before Old Faithful’s next eruption at 8:26. And, boy, was it ever worth the wait.

With storms rolling in and sunset sneaking beneath them, it was a sight that my little iPhone just isn’t capable of capturing. We sat on the bench surrounded by hundreds of other people, all in near silence as we watched water jettison from the earth.

“This is amazing,” Earl whispered.

It was also freezing and Bozeman was a two and a half hour drive from Old Faithful (I can sleep when we get home), so we followed the herd of departing tourists back to our car.

Yet again, the mere act of the sun going down was a sight to behold, only it wasn’t because of the boldness of colors but because of the steaming landscape.

My mother complains about our late nights on this trip. I understand her concerns. But sometimes God’s work is even more incredible when you wait for it to develop over the right canvas.

Even if it means driving through more road construction at 11:00 at night.