Nothing better than pure air. Fresh, crisp air. Like on a winter’s day or late fall day. As you might know by now I’m a beach girl although i grew up in the mountains. Sometimes though, I miss the pure mountain air. It just smells and tastes different than pure ocean air. It might be the salt… or the different vegetation. In any case they are different.
I guess for me the perfect combination would be living somewhere with mountains close to the ocean. Or to a huge lake. I need the water. I want the water. But I love the mountains too. I love how it cools down in the evenings, how thunderstorms build up and release their power. I love how it makes you feel standing on top of the mountain overlooking everything. Feeling on top of the world.
My Dad was a true mountain person. He understood the weather, he understood nature, he understood the storms, the snow, everything. Sometimes I felt like he was some sort of “nature whisperer”. I often heard him say during the ski season that he smelled snow coming or that there would be an avalanche. He knew. He understood the mountains. He respected the mountain.
It’s probably because of him that I look at a mountain and I see a giant. A giant looking over us, with its pure intention and pure power.