The Sun warmed my face and body as the shade receded from where I was seated. The grass was only recently dried in the sun, yet it still felt damp at the base of the sycamore. I had found a perfect spot to simply sit and relax. The old tree I was leaning on had the perfect concavity for use as my own personal seat; it felt like a throne as a looked at my view. The stream directly in front of me was right on the border of where the woods started, and the field ended. It was very rocky, and its water ran clear and cool, it had no fish yet, my imagination seemed to be conjuring splashing sounds accompanying the quite babbling emanating from the water. It might have be a good spot for a swim, were the stream a bit deeper, and I a bit smaller. Past that was the field; in it were rolling hills and tall, uncut grass that looked like the set from The Sound of Music. Past the field were more woods; rather, they were the woods that surrounded the field I was viewing. It is hard to tell where one set of woods starts and another begins in Vermont. The whole atmosphere around me hummed with insects, birds, and animals, and I could tell for miles that there was a presence of prospering non-human life. There were deer that were just on the periphery of my senses, I could see the flash of a tail, and heat the crunch of a leaf, but they kept far away from me. So there I sat, simply drinking in all that was around me, acutely aware that the air I breathed had no smell, and that the water I pulled from my well tasted better than anything in a sold in a bottle. There really is nothing like just enjoying the view, of this great state, it always makes me feel like I’m at home.