It is a place where television cannot replace the views outside the windows, or compete with a walk in the summer sun.
Where a handful of raspberries is the nectar of the gods-
And it is a place where country cats test their cunning, and silver-leaf describes the poplar in the yard.
Here you can still see why Batts and Fallam described the mountains as "giant waves of land shrouded in mist, as if the ocean were frozen in place."
This is where the homesteads of ancestors still stand, revered, as holy places.
And where things you've only seen in paintings come to life.