The Majestic and the Minute.

There's something about nature.
Something about open space.

Space vast enough for me to watch morning clouds move through, a gossamer wave sliding through a break in the canyon hills, vapor thin. In they came, gliding through from the ocean to the valley. A diaphanous flow as if Neptune exhaled chiffon, whisper thin and silent, lasting only as long as the cool early morning air. 

There's something about watching miles of sky on a rare overcast Southern California start of the day. The gray pushing the blue away. Clumps of thick gray and ragged edges, splotches of blue unveiled from underneath. The sun so covered it looks like the moon.

Nature gifts us with much to be in wonder of. Miles and miles of a cloud carpet covering the valley below, only the peaks of the tallest shapes peeking through. A tiny lizard clinging to lawn furniture, darting into the closest covered space., out of the reach of most danger. 

We just have to be present. Take notice of our world. We miss so much.