"As we walk our own ground, on foot or in mind, we need 

to be able to recite stories about hills and trees and animals, 

stories that root us in this place and keep it alive. The sounds we 

make, the patterns we draw, the plots we trace may be as native 

to the land as deer trails or bird songs. The more fully we 

belong to our place, the more likely that our place will 

survive without damage. We cannot create myth from scratch,

 but we can recover or fashion stories that will help us to see 

where we are, how others have lived here, and how we

 ourselves should live."

from Telling The Holy

          Scott Russell Sanders

Last week I notified my employer of my intention to retire

this spring. The above quote indicates in part, what I hope

to do. Which is to learn and  participate in the rhythm of 

life and the change of seasons that occurs in the area 

surrounding our cabin. There will also be time for books, 

hobbies, friends, and family. The movement of clouds and 

stars against the sky, the winds across water, through

 trees will hopefully not find me too busy or too tired to 

pause for a moment to listen to their songs. 

The night before we left the cabin this year the young bear that has

been hanging around the last year or so crossed the road. Not a 

great shot but a good reminder.

This is the life I wanted, and could never see.

For almost twenty years I thought that it was enough: 

That real happiness was either unreal, or lost, or endless,

And that remembrance was as close to it as I could ever come. 

And I believed that deep in the past, buried in my heart 

Beyond the depth of sight, there was a kingdom of peace. 

And so I never imagined that when peace would finally come

It would be on a summer evening, a few blocks away from home 

In a small suburban park, with some children playing aimlessly 

In an endless light, and a lake shining in the distance.

from In The Park

By John Koethe