(no subject)
A few weeks ago I made an escape. I traveled through the Rocky Mountains and eventually made it to the coast. The mountains were capped with snow and the the lakes were clear and cool, reflecting perfect images of the mountains towering above them. I wrapped a scarf around my neck and let the cold, fresh air fill my lungs. But soon the mountains got smaller and smaller, and the grass got greener and greener as I approached the coast. Wild daffodils and their perfect yellow petals were popping out of the ground, and the amber leaves of weeping willow trees swayed quietly in the salty breeze. Eagles soared in the sky and deer wandered through the neighborhoods. My favorite drives are down the highways that go through thick forests, so lush and green from the spring rain. Velvety moss covering rocks and trees, deep green ivy climbing and twisting around trees to their very tips. Nothing in the world ever felt as right as that crisp, fresh air and that salty sea breeze did.
