| Dogs distrust hot air balloons. I gathered | | | | greet them in their nest. We waved |
| this tidbit as my husband and I floated over | | | | reassurance to cows whose moos voiced concern |
| the mountains in a wicker gondola, listening | | | | at our strange presence overhead and we |
| to the barking chorus that followed us even | | | | called "good morning" to the folk who blessed |
| 3,000 feet into the air. The burner evokes | | | | us with their waves. |
| canine protest -- but we had no problems, as | | | | |
| we drifted with the currents and contemplated | | | | |
| the silent fog in its morning retreat over | | | | |
| the hills. | | | | "Are those sheep?" my husband wondered, |
| | | | pointing to toy animals far below. "No," |
| | | | said our pilot placidly. "Cows." They |
| | | | turned out to be horses, but who cared. For |
| We learned that a mere a six foot rise in | | | | the duration of our flight, nothing mattered, |
| altitude can change your direction, if your | | | | and that was perhaps the biggest lesson of |
| vehicle is a hot air balloon. We learned | | | | the morning. Letting go of anxiety. |
| that the tops of trees look a lot different | | | | Letting go of fear. Letting go of |
| from above, and birds look surprised if you | | | | expectations. |