Beyond the windowpane, cattle graze among the grass, briars, and wildflowers in the field. Across the valley, Classic cars tour Farm to Market roads. The blades of large generators rotate in the wind atop a limestone outcrop. Outside a nearby winery, friends and family get together to enjoy those finer aspects of life that are given such little airtime on daily news networks.
Workers repair roads, farmers and ranchers tend to the land and a few homeowners, home early on this day, get a head start on the weekend chores. Shop owners tell the stories of how local artists' works are produced.
I stare across this valley of forests and creeks, pastures and hillsides, reflecting on the roads I've traveled. To me, America's blue highways oftentimes have higher appeal than the Interstates.
The moon has started its path across the sky; the sun heads toward the horizon. An astronomy app points out various meteor showers at play this time of year. As night falls, I turn off the screen and look towards the heavens. A healthy world spends more time looking up to the stars than allowing itself to be bathed in artificial light.