I have fallen in love with the sky. Again.  When I was in my late 20s, I made a few trips to Montana. The open expanse of the sky was mesmerizing. I felt like I could float right up and become part of it, and at the same time like I was completely Earthbound, smaller than a speck of sand under it.  I’ve never felt anything close to that until now, on our farm, as summer skies turn to autumn skies.  

Our farm sits on a rise, and while we do have a dozen or so tall trees of various types on two sides of our property, the pastures are open to the sun and moon and stars and clouds, to the glorious colors of dawn and dusk.  Of course, when we lived in the suburbs, we had the sun, moon, stars, clouds, dawn and dusk, too ~ but there the sky was broken up by more trees, by telephone poles and wires, by rooftops.  Here, when I stand on the high point of our pastures and look up, there’s only the sky, and under this sky, I am home and I can breathe.