One was a particularly long, emotional trip to Arizona to move my mom to Wisconsin and then drive back home. The Smokey Mountains were breathtaking. The hills of New Mexico were not to be believed. The blooming dessert cactus in the flatlands of Arizona looked fantastic. The painted buttes and mesa’s in Sedona looked fake and hand painted. Driving into the rich farmland of the Midwest made us feel voluptuous and abundant.
Each and every place we drove through, we’d say, “Isn’t it beautiful?” And they were. All of them. . .each in their own unique way. Exhausted, we crossed over from Ohio into Pennsylvania and the beauty of the hills took our breath away.
“I can’t believe we live in this gorgeous state,” my husband said. “You have to go some to find a place as pretty.” Even my mom, when she visited us years ago, said, “I’ve never seen a prettier place in the world than Pennsylvania in Spring.” I agree.
Spring in Pennsylvania is when every twig, bush, piece of scrub in the world bloom. It can take one single plant and make it look like cotton candy, ready to devour an entire house. Fuggetabout the watery eyes, sneezing and hacking coughs all of that beauty brings us and focus on how pretty it is. Mom is always right.