fields of grass

We live in the highlands.  In a valley.  The rolling hills surround us with their shades of green.  They look so soft in the distance and I imagine plains of grass rolling in the wind.   

Closer, closer, the grass is up to my knees, my waist.  It isn't soft.  It isn't friendly.  The grass hides a treacherously uneven path.  The grass pokes and scrapes my skin.  Looking into the distance, I am struck by the beauty; but looking down, I am struck by the potential for pain.

It's a good reminder to keep my eyes fixed forward, on the Author and Perfecter, rather than looking closely at the "problems" of the day.

Last week, I had the opportunity to go hiking in these hills.  Here are some pictures.

A bridge out of the community.

Looking back at where we came from

Looking at "Lone Tree Hill" in the distance

More of the hills and valley

It's burning season

The other side of the valley.

A fun part of the path. : )

At the top, it was a cold day.

We got smoked out and had to return a different direction

Beauty along the way.

Along the way

A garden we passed.

And a coffee plantation.

And a river

And of course, the pigs.  You can't forget the pigs.