My heart is biggest when Creation is in view, a raspy (and strangely melodious) voice instructs, a mandolin plucks out my shiny loves, a guitar fills in my days, the bass plays out my sorrow, and a fiddle binds them all up in memory. All loves rise, and all things savory come to mind as those green pastures come in view. There are sparkly loves, and atriums reserved for piano and cello, but in my simple, land-loving heart, I am most enamored with imperfectly perfect songs such as these. I cannot wait to go on home to green pastures.