Usually, on the way into work in the morning we see trains. The highway we use to commute into Boulder has train tracks that run about half the length of our commute. The bug is very intrigued by trains and usually wants to see one, to find one, and some mornings even to ride on one. She has a few train-related books, and it's a good morning when we see one as she's generally very enthusiastic about the possibilities they imply.
As of this morning, though, she has a new love. The weather is finally getting warm enough and clear enough for a local summertime business to open, and they lift off around 7:30 a.m. each morning:
Hot Air Balloons.
"I want to touch them. With both hands." she instructed. "The colored ones. Where are they going?"
When Matt and I were first married we lived in a little condo in Gunbarrel. The balloons took off from a field just a few hundred yards away from our complex, so we got quite used to waking up each morning to the sound of whooshing air and the sight of the canopies inflating.
One more thing that makes our morning commute infinitely more tolerable than most people's. It's a good day to count our blessings.
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