Our home in Pennsylvania is located on eleven acres with the Allegheny mountain range. It just so happens to sit on one of the highest points in the valley. From our home, we have a view that extends about 40 miles in just about every direction. We can see the rolling mountains, covered in green, for as far as the eye can see. We didn't really appreciate the view when we bought the property--we bought it more for the location and the size. However, when people come to visit, they inevitably bring up the view. In fact, we've been told that if and when we ever sell the house, the view will increase the home's resale value.
I have a "take it or leave it" feeling about the view. For some reason, it just doesn't speak to me. Green, rolling mountains with blue sky. It's hard for me not to see the limestone that is just inches below the dirt, the limestone that makes planting a simple tree a half-day process. It's hard for me not to think of the way the grass rotates between green and brown all summer long because the thin layer of dirt can't hold the rain water for more than a couple of days. The only time I appreciate the view is during the sunrise and sunset--it feels like the clouds and the colors extend forever.
Enter Michigan. Here's the view I pass each morning as I ride my bike to work:
No sunrise particularly, and certainly no rolling hills, and yet this view speaks to my soul. In fact, I love to take a break during the day and walk down to the lake. I felt like I was having a Pocahontas Disney movie moment the other day as I stood on the beach--the wind was blowing in my hair, and I felt all stress just melt away. It is a cathartic moment for my soul, to look out over the lake, and to feel renewed.
I'm not sure if I connect with the water because I grew up in West Texas where there was no water, or because I spent my teenage years in Michigan, and I miss the fact that you can't throw a stone here without hitting a lake (there are over 11,000 lakes within the state of Michigan). For whatever reason, I love this view.
One thing is for certain: I would give up our eleven-acre, forty mile view in a heartbeat for just a piece of what I can see here.
I have a "take it or leave it" feeling about the view. For some reason, it just doesn't speak to me. Green, rolling mountains with blue sky. It's hard for me not to see the limestone that is just inches below the dirt, the limestone that makes planting a simple tree a half-day process. It's hard for me not to think of the way the grass rotates between green and brown all summer long because the thin layer of dirt can't hold the rain water for more than a couple of days. The only time I appreciate the view is during the sunrise and sunset--it feels like the clouds and the colors extend forever.
Enter Michigan. Here's the view I pass each morning as I ride my bike to work:
No sunrise particularly, and certainly no rolling hills, and yet this view speaks to my soul. In fact, I love to take a break during the day and walk down to the lake. I felt like I was having a Pocahontas Disney movie moment the other day as I stood on the beach--the wind was blowing in my hair, and I felt all stress just melt away. It is a cathartic moment for my soul, to look out over the lake, and to feel renewed.
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I'm not sure if I connect with the water because I grew up in West Texas where there was no water, or because I spent my teenage years in Michigan, and I miss the fact that you can't throw a stone here without hitting a lake (there are over 11,000 lakes within the state of Michigan). For whatever reason, I love this view.
One thing is for certain: I would give up our eleven-acre, forty mile view in a heartbeat for just a piece of what I can see here.
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