I took this photo of the Flint Hills on Thanksgiving Day. I've seen this view a thousand times. As I get older, I find more beauty in them. As a child, I had no idea how fortunate I was to grow up in the heart of cattle country. I was surrounded by their beauty every day. It was my normal, which also meant it was easy to take for granted. Not so anymore.
The hills change with the seasons. Now, many wouldn't find the beauty in them. It's something that is much easier for natives to do. As I drive the road to home now, it is easy for me to get choked up; a lump in my throat, a tear in my eye. Probably sounds ridiculous to many. I know I am not alone though. There are others in my family who share the same affection for the hills that I do.
I pulled off the road to take this picture. I got out of the truck. I walked in the tall, dormant grass. I ran my fingers through it. I heard the crunch under foot. Breathed in the clean, fresh air. In the spring I will do it again. And the hills will be alive with new growth, color and calves. That's when I get choked up. The new life -- the tiny black dots on the hills -- tiny black angus calves against the lush green grass. One of my favorite views. Until then, I will enjoy the beauty of this season.