The cool breeze that makes the silver leaves of our ancient cottonwood trees dance.
The succession of wildflowers in the pasture, from dandelions to buttercups and onward to vetch, clover (red and white), milkweed and chicory.
The storm clouds that roll in over the lake, casting a blue hue on the mountains beneath them. And the pure white light that finds an opening in the clouds making even the green grass look golden.
The smell of wet earth during yet another rain shower.
Each day that I'm here, our small mountains grow bigger in my mind. The beauty of the landscape and my gratitude for it is deepening its mark on my heart. I will appreciate it now while I'm here. And I will change as it changes. As we change each other.
This is my lesson in not taking things for granted.