The other night we went to nearby Flat Rock, NC to the Flat Rock Playhouse to see a production of Meet Me in St. Louis. Michael was, of course, horrified, but I couldn't wait. The play was great, though the woman playing Esther could have sassed it up a notch. But I'm not here to talk about the show. I'm here to talk about the air.
The playhouse was set back in a very picturesque campus in an already picturesque village. Towering above the theatre and admin buildings were all these fir and pine trees. It had been raining off and on throughout the day, so when we stepped out of the theatre, we were hit with the most amazing fragrant mixture of pine and rain and fresh mountain air. It makes you just want to stand around outside, taking deep breaths.
In Los Angeles, the air isn't as bad as you might think. True, you can still see it, but it's much better than it used to be. But you'd never want to stand outside and just breathe it in. Except maybe at the beach. The point is that the air here is so fresh and clean, it makes me a little dizzy. You just want to bottle it or inject it or hoard it somehow.
This morning, Michael and I had breakfast on the patio overlooking the back yard and lake. One of our bunnies hopped through the yard, while various birds flitted from feeder to feeder and the squirrels and chipmunks began their daily games. A cool breeze blew through, carrying with it the clean, fresh smell of morning dew and woodsy bark and pine.
It's enough to make you a little sick.
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