i'm so far away from the mountains i grew up in. i miss the aspen stands and the dry, red deserts; the smell of sagebrush before a storm, and long stretches of highway that see more coyotes than cars. i miss the wild flowers that grow above timberline in august. i miss avalanches in the winter. i miss the skies full of clouds.
i never thought i'd be here this long.
but it's just so fucking spell-binding i find it harder and harder to leave. everyday is a different light, each more lovely than the last. and every time i think i've seen her in every mood and fit of weather san francisco becomes breathtaking in a completely new way.