The past few days have been blustery ones. I've cursed the wind and stinging snow, and in particular, the horrific driving conditions. But, in the night as I lay in bed falling asleep, the sounds high in trees remind me that this place isn't so bad after all.
I love the wildness of it. I like living somewhere where the unpredictability of the natural world is right there - a glance outside my window and footsteps outside my door. I love being able to hike half an hour into the bush and be somewhere where no one may have ever laid eyes- or haven't for many years. We are slowly changing that, of course, with all the exploring that we do.
The noises in the trees reminds me why I wanted to live here in the first place. When I was younger I always had a vision of myself living in a forest. We don't exactly reside right in a forest, but we are obviously surrounded by them, and by trees large enough to make that whoosh when the wind whistles through their highest boughs.
I'm lucky to live in such a place.
Lucky, indeed.
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