The Hills are Alive
There's this place. It's not far from my house. I load the girls in the rolling dog crate and we drive about three miles up into the forest. From there we walk about a mile on an old abandoned logging spur until it becomes single track and finally comes out on a broad, open hilltop. The views are incredible. And in May, the flowers are making their show: purple larkspur, yellow arrowleaf balsamroot, orange Indian paintbrush.
Every time I pop out of the dense trees onto this expansive yet welcoming hillside, that opening scene from The Sound of Music comes to mind, the one where Julie Andrews twirls and sings from a hilltop in Austria. The hills are indeed alive.
A few nights ago, feeling a bit sad, I took the girls to this magical spot and we bathed in the warm sustaining rays of the evening sun. I decided to take to heart a lesson learned from my dogs: just let it go. Let whatever bad or sad thing may have happened - a minute ago, a day ago, a year ago - go. By the time we reached home, all was well in our world.