> I often wonder if I'm just basically immune to such wonders as "natural beauty" or if there's something about the place where you grew up that makes it impossible for you to truly appreciate it.

Not me. I must have seen umpteen billion examples of NZ subtropical rainforest in my life, and I still can't get enough of it. When I was working on the ferries, we went over the same three or four routes dozens of times a week, and after a year I was still to be found absconding from my duties to lean over the back railing gazing starstruck at the islands, reefs and just general water, with every sunrise. Of course, considering my actual duties consisted mostly of cleaning tables and being sworn at by drunks, maybe this is not so remarkable.

One of the most wonderful sunrises I ever saw during this time involved an area I lived in from birth until I was 22. The peninsula and island I was looking at have been mere mental wallpaper for as long as I can remember, and it was STILL amazingly beautiful to me. There were no passengers on the boat, and I spent maybe a quarter of an hour standing out the back by myself, just looking.

I think perhaps it is because I am quite a visual person, and I see different details every time. So I'm not just looking at that island or that tree for the billionth time, I'm looking at the way it is *right now*, and finding it different each time according to the prevailing conditions, time of day, and even my own mood. Or maybe I'm just nuts. ;-)