This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on impending retirement.

MONUMENT ROCK, Kan. — Drive about 20 minutes north of Scott City, Kan., turn east onto a dirt road and bump along about 7 miles.

This is what you find.

It’s called Monument Rock.

It ought to be called Monument Temple of Rocks.

The sight is quite breathtaking. What’s more, it lies in a place where one doesn’t expect to find such scenic splendor.

The place is in western Kansas, for crying out loud!

Kansas is where Dorothy Gale grew up, where she got hit on the noggin and was blown into the Land of Oz. Once she got there, she reminded Toto the Dog that “We’re not in Kansas anymore.”

OK, so Monument Rock isn’t exactly the Emerald City, but it reminded my wife and me of the various sights and emotions we’re likely to experience as we venture more deeply into full-blown retirement.

We’ve been camping out at an RV park in Dodge City and, frankly, have just enjoyed sleeping in, doing what we want to do at our own pace — and not having to be anywhere at a specific time.

We headed west along U.S. 50 toward Garden City, then veered north along U.S. 83 and then found our way on one of Kansas’s historic byways.

We didn’t exactly stumble onto Monument Rock, but driving our truck along this stretch of road, it sort of felt like a stumble when the collection of rocks jutting out of the plains appeared in front of us.

We live on a gigantic and magnificent continent. We intend to find many more surprises along the way.