Every time we come to Yosemite I end up in tears. Last year, it happened on our last day, when at the base of Half Dome I watched my naked babies splash about in Mirror Lake. As my heart exploded, the tears erupted.
It happened again this morning, but admittedly on a slightly smaller scale. After taking our morning coffee, faces kissed by the morning sun rising over Half Dome, I took a walk to the end of our campground to visit the stables. I knew that soft, golden light, shining down on those horses, would be absolutely breathtaking.
And it was. So I took pause, let it all seep in, and let the tears well up.
It was just another summer morning in the Yosemite Valley. But even still, it seems impossible to me to be in those moments and to not feel that there is something greater than all of us at work.
Meet three of my all-time favorite people: Mr. Noodle, Miss Frijoles and The 8 year old.
