I'm a daydreamer, suffering occasionally from "grass is always greener" syndrome. I'm hit the hardest with entertaining ideas of living elsewhere. The highlands of Scotland. The south of France. The redwood forests of northern California. Most recently, the coastal regions of the Pacific northwest.
And then I'm greeted with mornings like this one. I'm growing increasingly convinced that there is no better morning here on Sunray Cove than a fog-drenched morning. The forests are cloaked so mysteriously, the mist moving so fast across my face as I walk to the chicken coop. This beautiful plot of Earth becomes the most enticing place I know then. There really is no place like home.