I found this in my drafts pile from last year sometime. I still feel the same.
As I sit outside in a Vans ball cap, still in pajamas, closing my eyes in the 3:00 pm sun, I sigh, contented. I hear the soft clicks of the computer keys as Gary types a few feet from me, the cats curled up sleeping in their nest of warm leaves, the boys napping inside, the wind chimes tinkling, the distant traffic, even a faint car alarm all blend together, become one, and then disappear from my awareness. All is perfect right now. I marvel at how much my sense of well-being stems from the weather but it's simply how my brain works. There's really no need to wish it differently. And I am even more grateful that I live in a place where there aren't very many dreary days strung together. This place, the central San Joaquin Valley of California, my only home for my 36 years on this earth, the place I strove, even vowed, to escape from is a now a place of true refuge, one with roots much deeper than I knew. I now feel so fortunate to be here, to raise this family, to spend my days, all in a place whose landscape, sunshine, and soil truly course through my veins. I come from here and I am happy to be here and no matter where I might end up, this will always be my home.