I look up and observe the trails of air turbulence left by aircrafts, strikes of thin clouds slowly blurring against the vast blue sky. As prominent as they were before, they disappear out of the scoop my vision. The scrubs below hiss and rustle. The branches and thistle crackle, crying for a relief to their yearning for spring. I peer at the sun over the rooftop and count the sheep below -some weird looking hairy/woolly creatures beyond discernment. Horses and ponies flex their hind legs, digging their hooves into the wet tuft. The narrow gutters at the ledge of my balcony are filled with algae. Over the rail, a bed of marguerite beams from below. My heart whelm into the country air!
Yonder lie the snow-capped mountains of the Bavarian Alps. Everything, trees, tall or stout, grounds, loose or firm, birds, puny or big in their own fluttery intrepidity, has a way of proclaiming the mightiness and intricacy of the creator who weaves them into existence! I lose myself a little in adoration and bewilderment 
