(Submitted to Wordless Wednesday)
Mark and I had been living in the “foothills of the Berkshires” for almost two months, barely noticing those geography defining Berkshire Mountains. Sure, each time we drive from our house sit to the town of Kent to run errands, our ears pop and we don’t need any fuel to reach the bottom of the road, but the cold weather, sometimes gray, sometimes snowy had not allowed us to walk up to any viewpoints during our weekend outings with the dogs. When the sun set, I could often spot what I thought to be a purple hued hill top in the distance, through the barren trees around the house. I wanted to stand on top of one of those hills… Continue reading
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