Rolling Hills

Watching the seasons creep across the flats is an endless source of joy. As tempting as it is to sit here all day and watch the sun roll by or the shadows of the clouds pass over the fields below, I can only spare an hour here in the peak of the afternoon sun, when the birds have ridden the warmer air to join me high in the hills.

Snow still clings here and will for some weeks yet, but it makes the coming warmth all the more sweet. My trips to the sunny plains feel like a plunge into a volcanic spring, bubbling with a vitality that the mountains have not yet remembered. The scents of the flowers are bolder for the cold mountain air in my nose, and the birdsong all the more friendly after the empty hissing wind of the peaks. It might be tempting to stay in the fields and abandon the mountains altogether, but the contrast is what makes them both so perfect.

…And I have terrible hay fever and must wait for the pollen to settle before spending too much time there.

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