Texas.

The sky above was a vast, vast blue, unhindered by trees or hills. It was the blue of just-dyed denim, and it looked just as unchanging. I inhaled. Sweet grass toasted in the sun, earth baked by dry heat, and the nectar of wildflowers filled my lungs. Texas. I reached out and touched a bluebonnet, its little blue and white bells swayed in the slight breeze. I love hills and pine trees, crisp falls. But nothing compares to the cloudless texas sky, or the way wind ripples through a field of high grass. The wind speaks, creating a sound like an ocean hiding within the state’s borders, waiting to be discovered.