It’s always an event when we’re not late getting out the door to school. I can count on one hand the times Thing1 has been about to rush out the door without a backpack or Thing2 had to go back to their room to grab one more action figure for show-and-tell. So when we got out the door this morning with both backpacks fully packed, homework finished, and two boys breakfasted and brushed (Mom eats after the chaos), it was nothing short of a minor miracle.
We bundled ourselves into the car and headed out the driveway. We go the same way everyday, and most days I slow a bit as we approach the little horse farm at the bottom of our dirt road. Today, I stopped.
Over the last week, Mother Nature had put away the pinky-browns and blues she’d been using during mud season and pulled out her spring palette. As we descended, the morning sun bathed the hill in gold, and we all noticed how the grass had suddenly become green. A few daffodils were poking through the leaves by the fence that runs along the road, reminding us that, whatever else is happening in the world, it’s still April. I exhaled again and snapped a quick pic before rebooting the morning school run.
There are more mornings than not that I have to stop and snap a few photos of this hill and the tiny horse farm framed by the rounded mountains. Part of me is always surprised that, after over ten years living on this road, the scenery still takes my breath away. It’s the answer to a question I started as a teenager while visiting southern Bavaria with friends of the family.
Our friends had a vacation home in one of the centuries-old towns that dots that mountainous regions. We were there in the summer, and the crystal blue lakes and then-snowcapped Alps in the back ground constantly took my breath away. I always wondered, though, if living with that beauty everyday would minimize its impact. Today, as I’m snapping pictures and smiling on my way to school, I’m thinking once again about how the answer to that question is still one my favorite daily miracles.