We live between one of many Catholic churches in town - St. Ann's parish, for which our street is named - and the beautiful, dome-topped Serbian Orthodox church at the top of our street. Bells ring out all around us on a Sunday morning, sounding clear through the pristine air of this old mining town. I can't wait until the weather warms up and we can open up the windows to hear them better - drifting in with the scent of cut grass or rain or pine needles or the flowers I will plant.
While they ring, we get ready for church.
No bells coming from an LDS chapel, but for me, the same feeling of holy clarity and peace. The same sense of easy homecoming.