Where I Lived, and What I Lived For

“This was an airy and unplastered cabin, fit to entertain a travelling god, and where a goddess might trail her garments. The winds which passed over my dwelling were such as sweep over the ridges of mountains, bearing the broken strains, or celestial parts only, of terrestrial music. The morning wind forever blows, the poem of creation is uninterrupted; but few are the ears that hear it. Olympus is but the outside of the earth everywhere.”

Henry David Thoreau

Maya and I arrived here right at the end of November. It was well into fall, all color gone but the green of the Rhododendrons, the day was gray and rainy. Our cab driver was happy for the long fare but not so happy with the last few miles of climbing up a rutted gravel road that only a serious four-wheel drive vehicle had any business on. In twenty minutes we made it halfway before he apologetically began a five-point turnaround. From his GPS he guessed we were within a mile of the address. We weren’t.