Have spent a lazy Thanksgiving weekend musing about the levels of gratitude that exist in my own life. I live in an incredibly beautiful place. Even in the midst of the snowstorms that seem to periodically plague us (what did we do with the snow shovels last spring???), watching my 3 year old granddaughter delight in being pulled on her sled by her dad, oblivious to the cold that makes my knees complain mightily, I am filled with thankfulness that I was here to experience that moment. As I watched them run past my window and heard her squeals of laughter, I also was struck by the backdrop of spruce woods, the meadow below our house, and the sweep of Kachemak Bay and the Kenai Mountains beyond. So my gratitude at experiencing this simple, sweet moment was compounded by the fact that I was experiencing it in such a beautiful location. There is something so very special about being so close to both the mountains and the ocean. Surely we are very lucky and fortunate people to be able to be able to experience both so intimately.
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