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Beauty.

A tall vase of purple agapanthus sits on my desk. Blue glass jars, their insides swirled with silver paint, hold beeswax candles. A dried agave stalk that filled in for the lack of Christmas trees here in central Mexico will shoulder a string of colorful lights until the cats finally succeed in knocking it over.

Beauty is important to me. Finding beauty in the mundane delights my senses, and there is so much of it, right there, just being… beautiful. Trained for years by New England’s seasonal changes, I find the high desert of Mexico holds wonders only dreamt of. I eat fresh avocados daily by the buttery spoonful, pick limes from the tree in my courtyard, and am entertained by hummingbirds hovering outside my window on nectar forays. Evenings bring the smell of burning mesquite from a neighbor’s wood fired cooking area, and mornings are often punctuated by the booms of bottle rockets being launched in celebration of this saint, or that, or simply because it is Tuesday.

It is now dark outside, and the flicker of candlelight illuminates the delicate agapanthus blossoms from underneath. Thor and Loki have stopped plotting the agave’s demise and bathed each other into feline bliss. The ambit of my office is complete. Back to work.

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