I have always been fascinated by little planes.  I haven’t ever necessarily wanted to learn to fly but I have wanted to ride in a small plane.  We would watch them fly over and land or take off at the Falcon airport as we drove by and would wave.  Turns out my friend, Pat, has an airplane at the Falcon airport and invited Doug and I to ride along.

His son, Jeff, came along with his girlfriend, Paige.  She has always wanted to ride in a small plane as well and we were both giddy with excitement.

Pat was in the Airforce and in the National Guard for many years.  He recently retired as a pilot for United Airlines.  But he still has that need for airspace and his plane is a beauty.  It is a Russian Yak.  The way it is painted I felt like I was in World War II standing outside one of the brave soldier’s planes.  Or like Snoopy.  It also looks like the plane Snoopy flew.

Doug flew in a small plane with a friend of his some years ago so he was sweet enough to let me have the front seat (never mind my elbowing him out of the way).

We waved farewell to Jeff and Paige (who were flying after us) and taxied to the runway.

We flew peacefully over the plains, the mountains clear against the cloudless vast sky of autumn blue.  Little farms slept quaintly below and cows grazed obliviously.  We flew over our little town and waved frantically.

Pat asked if we were ready to do a barrel roll.  We held our breath and morphed through a slight time warp of speed, just like in the movies, as we flipped over with the ground visible through the clear roof and swiftly flipped back right-side up.  Our heads a bit fuzzy but our smiles wide.

We had a smooth landing and a great memory to hold.

We cheered on Jeff and Paige as they taxied by.

You’ll find herbalists in the darndest places wild crafting, I tell you.