Living in the west

It's just like Philmont out here, in those mountains. Cool nights, bright mornings, and rainy afternoons. After it rains, it smells like the ocean. Clean and salty. It gets just hot enough to warm the bones after a long winter, and yet, the mountain tops bring a cool breeze to the valley. I don't feel like there is a grey area here like there was in the Ruby Mountains. Here it's defined exactly who you are. For or against your values, not matter what they are. The further you get from the mountains, it seems that they're a painted facade, but perhaps that's the dust in the air. The closer you get, the more you can see, the more real they become. You can see their imperfect perfection in stunning detail. And no matter where you stand, sage, lilac, lavender, rose, juniper, or any other vine or flower that gives a scent, permeates everything, to where there is always a new scent, a new discovery. This place isn't a desert. It's a valley. A paradisacal mountain valley. That's why they settled here.