When I was little, younger than two years old, we lived in Redmond, Wa., and hot air balloons used to fly over our house all the time in the evening. I don't remember this at all, of course, but my mom says that anytime one would fly over, I would hear it - the hot air being blown into the balloon, and I would stand up in my crib and start yelling "Hot air 'boon! Hot air 'boon!" (Or something along those lines).
Sometimes they would get me out of bed and the four of us, my mom, dad, brother Tim, and me would all sit out on the front porch and watch them fly overhead. Their huge, brilliant colors floating through the sky were hypnotizing to me, and still are.
I went to college in Billings, Mt., and once every year there would be a festival where dozens of hot air balloons would fly over the town. I could sit and watch them for hours, it was beautiful. It filled me with wonder.
I have never been in a hot air balloon, and strangely enough, I don't really have a desire. I think that would take some of the fun out of it. The joy, for me, is in watching these giant, colorful balloons set against the horizon. It's fun, and brings me back to my childhood when I see them now.
My last evening in Tennessee, I wanted to have a final look outside my 11th floor window; I wanted to take in the scenery one last time, since I knew it would be dark when I left the next morning. I pulled back the curtains, and saw this:
And is that cloud not totally awesome??I apologize for the poor quality. I didn't have my good camera with me, and I was shooting through a window, but you get the idea. I was pretty stoked when I saw the view, it was a nice ending to a wonderful weekend.
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