Land really is the best art.
I’ve wanted to pay closer attention to my surroundings lately. When we left Idaho, one of my regrets was not taking pictures of our favorite places, like the dock where Mark proposed, our favorite local restaurant, or the park where Claire first played. The city we live in now, while occasionally dappled in spray paint, still has its own unique beauty. I want to remember the smell of summer flowers, remember how the air feels against my body, and how the heat burns my cheeks. I want to remember our Sunday drives, orchard after orchard, and the palomino horse that stared at us through the sun. I want to remember how the deep, blue lakes sat like thick blue stones in the yellow earth and the little fruit huts with paint peeling off their sides. I want to remember what it felt like to pull off the road at twilight and walk into the trees, thinking at that moment - this new country felt like home.