North Salt Lake, Utah is probably not considered to be the most beautiful city in America. The view from our apartment is a car port. And outside of that, the view is richer apartments. And THEIR view is an oil refinery.
There is, however, a wonderful park about a block away from where a live. The walk is wonderful. It's a straight shot to the park, but I want to take a detour, there is a Redbox and a gas station with giant soda's just up the road. In the summer, I like to peek over a fence and peer into an overgrown garden that I have never seen anyone in. I like to daydream about why it's overgrown. Georgia likes to look at the leaves drooping over the fence. She loves leaves.
In the winter, though, everything is dead. Barren. A gray wasteland. North Salt Lake does not wear winter well.
Which is why it is a treat, every morning to listen to this seemingly lifeless bush:
That, my friends, is full of birds. You can't see them because they all flew down to the lower bushes when I snuck up on them- but they are there. And they are LOUD. I don't mind. I think it is wonderful. Even when it's covered with snow, there are birds tucked away, chirping.
And so, we continue our walks.