Just got home from work, and I’m sitting on the front porch waiting for the sunset. It’s a cool evening, not hot like normal this time of year. It’s feeling perfect. To my left, I can hear the wheel lines watering the field of alfalfa almost ready for the first cutting. The water it’s spraying is casts a hundred little rainbows along the line. To my right, northward, there was rainstorms earlier in the mountains, but now Sun rays are making it glow vibrant green… for now. Later this year, those rays will burn the mountains to a scorched brown. The sun is getting lower in the west… The purple mountains westward, straight in front of me on the other side of the valley has a pass shaped like Buckhorn rifle sights… Beyond it is Salt Lake, and many of my dear friends. All around me, birds are singing. Robins, Larks, Sparrows, and Doves. All claiming this as their area… I grin… Because its mine.