Got up this morning at my usual ungodly hour (working graveyards really screws up your clock on your days off), and headed into town, through the fog. Topped the last hill. and OOOMPH… It hit me. What a view! I broke through the fog, and was above the next fog bank (which thankfully covered the asphalt hell that is town), and the sky was clear and blue, with the Olympic Mountains, freshly covered in snow, rising up out of yet more fog in the distance. Had to start singing when I saw it (which got me a few stares from the people in the cars around me - I can REALLY project when I’m in the mood to). Anyone else had days that made them want to sing?
I do, Lawoot! Just about every day, in fact. I still wonder what wonderful thing I’ve done in life to deserve to live in paradise like this. This morning, I woke to find the ground covered with a thin veneer of snow, the first snow in town this season. The mountains just west of me had been getting snow for the past couple of weeks, but it was only raining here. Today we had snow! Now excuse me while I go make snow angels with my kids 
I know exactly what you are talking about!
Usualy, in my case, the singing comes first and then the good feelings follow. Then again, I’m a musician, so it makes sense
Nothing quite like playing tin whistle in the middle of a fog bank on the sopping green side of a hill.
20 years ago, I lived in a crappy log cabin in the Medicine Bow mountains, at the edge of the national forest, and commuted 30 miles into Laramie to go to work each morning. As I would drive up out of our little valley, I would end up on top of a ridge which afforded a view, on a clear day, of some 100 miles (mostly plains) to the northeast, and also of the northern reaches of Rocky Mountain National Park to my southeast, at least 60 miles away. It was a great way to start the day, and I’ll always cherish the memory of those beautiful snow-free three weeks…