The folks who live on the hill

Our house is on a hill. It overlooks a drained culvert, and beyond that, there is another street with houses, beyond that, another set of hills.
This means that when I throw open my bedroom or living room curtains early in the morning, I see the sun rise over several valleys, and watch as various lights go on in different homes. We are far enough away that no one bothers to keep the curtains closed as the early morning breakfast / news watching / preparing for the day takes place. The birds sing indiscriminately over the small peaks and troughs of the valley. Our house sits in the flight path of several native birds, and at 30,000 feet, the planes making their descent into the capital’s airport.
It is a quiet, unassuming part of the planet. We have one street through the town, and most people don’t swing off the state highway to find us, unless they have a reason.
But I’m happy to leave it that way.