I drove across the country this summer, from the Northeast to the Southwest. There were moments when the beauty so overtook me that I had to pull over and really take it in. This overpass, somewhere in the middle of Utah, with its tar-filled cracks, was just as majestic to me as the mountains behind it.
“Stop and smell the roses” is a common phrase that provides both literal and metaphoric instruction. There wasn’t a rose in sight on the Utah interstate but I couldn’t help but stop and smell them.
When did you last stop and smell some metaphoric roses?
