When I was a little girl (when not harassing horses, cows and my little brother), I would bury my head in National Geographic magazines and plan to explore the world I saw in its pages. Since then, I've been able to explore many of those places, but ya know what? There's nowhere like this place I now call home.
On flight days especially...from when I wake up in the morning...smelling only juniper and maybe some pungent creosote from an early morning monsoon, to finally climbing into the small plane where I'll get my last few moments breathing in the crisp northern AZ air (what oxygen there is anyway at around 8K' elevation), feeling the sun against my skin, smelling the ponderosa pine sap, and hearing only the sounds of aspen leaves rustling in the breeze and of the ginormous ravens playing high in the thermals.
Flying out of the closest airport, Flagstaff, can be hard. The little airport is a total breeze to use, and while waiting quietly outside for for my departure flight, all these northern Arizonan exclamations remind me just how darn fantastic it is here!
I often brainstorm of ways to stop traveling so much, so that I can simply sit-put here...to embrace this high desert mountain oasis and breathe/sniff/hike/play/mtb/etc anytime I want.
But I never come up with anything. Maybe deep down I know that this place is even more special when contrasted against all the other places in this world I go.
And I know, that yet again, I can look forward to soon stepping off that small plane and breathing it all in once again.