It’s been almost three years since moving from the SF Bay Area to the Sierra Nevada Foothills and I continue look, sometimes in awe, of the beauty that surrounds me. It’s always in the forefront of my mind whether I am walking around the Golden K or driving the tree lined roads to run errands or show homes to clients. As a thinking human being I tend to intellectualize the world around me. I measure my satisfaction by what I see often times over what I may feel or sense. Noticing the fall colors makes me happy. I anticipate the first snowfall like a child who can’t sleep the night before their birthday party. Do I miss the moment because I am thinking of what may come next? Maybe. Do I too often actively navigate my experiences instead just going along for the wonderful ride? Probably.
On a recent fall morning at The Golden K the sun was shining through the trees while two of my girls, Kloe and puppy Koda, romped around the back yard. I stopped and watched them alternate between sniffing the ground and pointing those noses upward to catch the scent of squirrels and other critters. They wrestled for possession of a stick, although there were literally dozens of other similar sticks within inches of them. They had no awareness that the sun was shimmering off their red fur creating a dazzling effect for my camera. The size and grandeur of the tall pine trees didn’t matter to them. The fact that the ground may be covered in snow within weeks could not possibly enter their awareness. And if it could they wouldn’t give it a thought. At that moment in time Kloe and Koda were no different than the pine trees, the red clay dirt, or the yellow and red leaves of the dogwood and maple trees.
Me, the thinking human watched, analyzed, and assessed the situation and the level of happiness it gave me. I took out my camera to capture images on a digital medium so that I could preserve the moment forever. Because how could I trust my brain or heart to remember it, right? So there I was analyzing and intellectualizing as I watched my girls do just the opposite. They were simply present. And as usual they taught me more than I can teach them. These rescued pups are actually the rescuers.
On this Fall morning at The Golden K Kloe and Koda were, as they always are, part of the fabric that makes up the Golden K. These two and my other girl Kali are a major part of what creates my romantic perspective of life at 3100 feet.
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