Maybe if I'd taken off my glasses, I could have pretended I was still in the mountains.
After all there was a mountain - of sorts - at the corner south of our house and matching "foothills" catty-cornered across the section.
There were a few obstacles to this fantasy:
- I certainly didn't need a long-sleeved shirt on my morning trek.
- The "mountain" was surrounded by wheat stubble and not green valleys.
- The mountains mysteriously disappeared in a single afternoon.
Much as I miss the cool of the mountains - both literally and figuratively - I am never sorry to come back home.
We may not have the mountains, but you can't beat the sunrise on the County Line.
Home sweet home!