It's not just the mountaintops or the rocky outcrops with outstanding views. It's not always the trails that traverse above treeline, nor the walks through majestic woods. Sometimes the magic comes in just sitting by a stream.
Yesterday morning Atticus and I took a lengthy road walk along the hilly streets of Jackson and returned home so I could write. Then later in the afternoon he roused me from my desk and I tucked our dinner into my backpack and we walked deep into the woods until we came to a stream too wild and deep to cross. It's there we sat and shared a meal together, listening to the song of the raging water. When we were done, Atticus got up and moved to the edge of a large rock and sat and watched much of the winter pass by below us.
We could have sat there for hours but darkness descended on us and I hadn't brought a headlamp. As I watched him, and looked around at our surroundings, and then walked out of the woods, I was so grateful for the decisions we made that led us to live in these mountains, to change our lives so that we could have moments like this on a daily basis.