Mountains

So this is kind of cheesy, but I will talk about it anyways. Its become kind of my morning routine to mentally say good morning to the mountains when I enter the kitchen to make breakfast and pack my lunch. The bunkhouse where I live have this nice open kitchen/living area, with these huge windows that open out to the bay and the Kenai range, which is across the bay. And those mountains are definitely one of my favorite things about Homer. They’re these huge, craggy, snow-covered peaks, but every morning, they look a little different. Some days they are shrouded in clouds. Some days the sunlight hits them at just the right angle, and the snow reflects the light in bright beams. Some days the sky is so clear you can discern every peak and bluff. I don’t think I could get tired of looking at them. At the same time, their beauty is so different than the beauty of the Blue Ridge. The Blue Ridge is so inviting – its covered in trees whose leaves filter light to softly illuminate the undergrowth. Leaves and organic matter cover the forest floor, making soft, padded footing. In contrast, the mountains here are formidable and awe-inspiring. They seem inhospitable, a constant reminder of the forces of nature. Peaks where nothing grows, deep fields of snow in the middle of summer, unpredictable weather…They’re beautiful, but on days when I’m feeling particularly lonely for my friends and family back home, they serve as a reminder of how far away I am. There is no comfort in their craggy peaks, only a reminder that nature is a power to respect.