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The view from my window, even with factory rooftops and smoke-stacks protruding, is typical autumn in New England. Actually, the factory roof and smokestacks would be quintessentially New England just as much as the fall foliage. Not all of our towns are white steepled churches and country roads; we’ve got a lot of industrialization around here, and this town nestled in a valley thrives on the factory.

And so my window at work looks out on a busy street, beyond which stretch a parking and the other side of the factory. And the best part is beyond that: hills still tinged with reds, yellows, oranges, browns and a little green here and there.

Beautiful.

Life is altogether too short to fill it with so much busyness. I work all day, come home and crash; the work-week flies by in a blur that somehow feels like an age at the same time. And the weekends? At this time of the year, they’re packed chock-full and are over before I can blink.

There are so many things – such little things! – that I want to do, I just don’t reach out, seize the moment and do them. And so, today – I did.

I seized a moment.

I drove to the edge of town and found this road that went up and up. The sun dipped lower and lower in the sky, trying to chase away threatening storm clouds. The wind sent raindrops stinging against my cheeks. The world felt so fresh, real and alive.

One moment.

It was beautiful.

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