Six months ago, I left the woods, never to return, or so I thought at the time. Now, here I am, taking care of a house in the woods for a friend, and it is as though I never left. Oh, I am not so deluded to think that it won’t be hard to leave this, too. Leavings are always hard, no matter who or what we are parting with. Returning to my small-town apartment after having reawakened old sensations, heard owls hooting at night and watched the sun set once again through the trees will be difficult. But didn’t I read somewhere that it’s not the destination that matters but the journey? And it’s been my experience that the journeys are often where we gain our deepest insights. We can stay too long in one place, stagnate, grow smug and complacent, and forget how we got there and the thrill of that. It took me years to learn this, but it is from constant change that wonder springs, that the most spectacular scenery presents itself to us as we are flying by it. So I will savor these next few weeks, immerse myself in the green that is all around me, and remind myself that each step forward is one not so much toward something new but THROUGH it.