The perfect view

What do you see out your window? Be as specific as you can. Are there evergreen trees weighed down by snow, or palm trees that sway in a breeze? What aspects of the view do you most enjoy? Is there another view you’d rather be seeing out your window? Is it somewhere you’ve been, or dream of going? Do you have particular seasons in your perfect view, or perhaps every day is tropical? Day 6

When I woke this morning, I filled my favorite mug with coffee, walked to the front door and pulled the blind that covers the oval window. Dew covered the grass on the lawn making it appear that it rained overnight. The geldings wove in and out of the willows on the creek, swishing their tails and grazing.

I looked to the switch back, hoping to see more cows filing down toward the meadow, but the morning shadows had not yet lifted and my eyes couldn't adjust through the haze from far away fires.

I opened the door and stepped out on the porch, my bare feet absorbing the cold of the boards and my weight breaking the silence with the creak of each step on old wood.

The sun was making it's way through the canyon on the river. Its rays hitting the highest peaks to my right. The mountains there, blue in color and shadowed by pines, mahogany and shrubs, their peaks softened by distance. Somewhere, over there, Husbeast has been awake for hours, loading packs and moving people and horses.

My gaze fell back to the meadow the kids and I filled with cattle last night. Black dots in the distance, moved about with their heads down. An occasional bawl of a cow telling me that they are content where we left them. The echo of their voices will draw more cattle home.

I scanned the road up the switch back one more time finding only the brush and rocks that cover the surface. The shadows were fading and the mountain was waking up.

This morning I searched for cows, while other mornings, my eyes follow the line of the willows looking for a change of seasons. The leaves are still green and the willows still full, meandering along the river, hiding the animals seeking shelter there.

My favorite view through the day is the switchback. Its colors changing with the hour of the day. This morning, gray and dark. This evening, it will glow orange and red, before blackness hides it again. I'll smile when the cows come marching down, pausing to call to those they left behind, or announce their arrival to those they'll join below.

The horses will come out of the river and make their way to the top of the pasture, avoiding what remains of the warm weather pests.

Today, inching closer to fall, another leaf will begin to turn, fading from summer's greens to yellows and browns.

Tomorrow, I'll step to the window and raise the blind again, look to the mountain and scan the meadows. I'll see the same view, yet I'll notice that which always changes...