Nothing But Blue Skies

sameness can breed restlessness . . .

Sycamores along the Arroyo Seco River where I used to live . . . photo by Margie Willis

For eleven years, I lived in a cabin overlooking wilderness. I moved to that rickety hovel perched on a crumbling cliff because I had to have that view. Waking up to a wall of windows never failed to move me to gratitude for so much blue sky and terrain unblemished by human development.