Where the road meets the sky

I have returned home once again, just as I have for the past thirteen years, from a long Thanksgiving weekend out of town. The magic of South Texas always proves to me, over and over again, just how beautiful this world is.
Especially in a place you might least expect it.Each morning we woke up early,
hours before the sun peeked its head through the mesquite trees.
While it was still dark outside and even the jack rabbits and cotton tails were sound asleep deep in their holes.
We bundled up in heavy coats, and drove up and down the hard red clay hills.
This is a feeling like no other. No words can explain it.
It is here I see the brightest of reds.
Crimson reds.
Found in the rising of the South Texas sun,
and later that day in the wings of hundreds of butterflies we found feasting on the abundance of Texas wild flowers.
Rare this time of year.And, there are the browns.
The sure sign of the first freeze.
It comes much later here.

I love it here. I can breathe in, and I can breathe out. Pure, fresh air.
No expectations. No hurry.
I love it here.

But then, once I am home,
I am looking forward to a Suitcase Sale in San Antonio.
Ahhh, I love it here (too).