Stop and smell the roses, and all.
I almost missed it this morning, but when I took the mental pause and realized what lay before me it was a picture postcard moment.
Sharp cold, a thick white layer of frost and day-old snow on the pastures along the river, three colorful hot air balloons between me and the early morning sun. If it was a postcard it would have been a cliche, but cliches are what they are for a reason.
Sadly, no camera.