Splendor as the writing spiders create their silken webs, the orb weavers, even a black widow in the stables. The old wooden fence, the scenic pastures, the wild horses, our soft sun, the slow fall of light in Fall. The skeletal leaves, brisk cold coming soon. Shadows dancing, the boats on the water, the tiny, indifferent people, reflections and vibrant fish in the river. You are home, this is where you belong, the world of all beauty.