There is something about cold cold mornings…where the air is snap crisp, and each breath is felt. Granted, where I live we do not know real cold..6 C (42 F) to 24 C (75 F) days..and those 6 C mornings are rare.
On these cold mornings you know that the horizon will be cloudless, as will the day. This is our winter days. Sun on sun…bright blue sky. How blessed am I to live here.
Each of us seeks to find out spiritual and soul home. The place were our cells hum. There is a rightness to place that is felt in our marrow…in our heart…I am home.
I find beauty in mountains, and plains…yet the call…the call of home…is always the ocean.
While any place can become a home, finding our place and home satisfies a longing. The gypsies of the world might be nourished from other directions…changing landscapes…dandelion seeds on the wind.
Most of us though want to grow roots.
To stand in the water, sand between my toes…my roots grow. My soul is nourished. I am home.
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