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While sitting in a mountain field, filled with wild flowers. The sweet taste, like honey, of Indian Paintbrush on my lips. The soft yellow glow of buttercups mingle with a fragrant aroma rising from the blue bells and columbine. I hear the music of the wind’s spirit. Feeling the current of a soft breeze tenderly mix and blend the long stems of grass reaching high. The rustle of leaves moved with a tempo created by spirits of the wind. The music is clear and poignant, inspirational and relaxing.
It’s like listening to dreams whispered to the winds, carried where only nature can take them. Surrounded by the protective rampart of mountain ranges, bathed in the soft glow of sunset light. Resplendent colors cascading over the the horizon. A
panorama of fire, both in the heavens above and the terra firma below, meeting in the middle where the horizon line runs jagged and rough. Blazing reds and oranges, highlighted with gold, soften and darken becoming comforting purples, grays and browns.
The artistry of natures spirits, is not only visual but tactile and auditory. To get the full effect, one simply needs the serenity of natures environs. It matters not whether it’s the beach or the mountains, even the desert has its own version. Your preference is as unique and individual as you are. The tones, tempos, and texture of the art differ from location to location, just as they do with the seasons. Natures color pallet, varying and vibrant, depending on where it is you choose to view them.
What remains consistent, is that if one wishes, and listens close they can hear the music, see the dreams, and share what others have cast to the wind. Then all that remains is for you to whisper your wishes to the winds. Let them be carried on, higher and farther, perhaps someone will hear them and grant and answer.