Each morning I wake up and keep to a ritual. Shower. Dress. Coffee and a smoke outside the newsroom. Breakfast occurs somewhere in there, along with some chatting and the start of the workday.

But as I have my coffee and smoke, I take in the scene around me that many others in New Gyr take for granted each day. Green grass and trees toward one horizon. A breeze carries fresh salty spray from the other horizon. Above, a blue sky that kisses the ocean as the two meet in the distance.