A few years ago, I walked through a prairie preserve, and it was at that moment I realized I’d rather live in a shack in the middle of nowhere than work again. I worked in Southern California, driving between San Diego, Santa Barbara, and OMG Compton. I was done, I needed out, I needed quiet. The Mister wasn’t too happy about this sudden change in what had always been his pragmatic wife.
I gave my notice, returned to school for two years, and then relocated to Colorado. We live above nine thousand feet in quiet with space, bears, mountain lions, porcupines, deer, and more deer. Right now, in my tiny office, I am looking directly at snow-covered Pikes Peak, and I wouldn’t change a thing,
Breast Cancer brought me to Casting for Recovery, which got me to fly fishing. A gift gave me kayaking―my style, which means I paddle to one end of our small lake and flote back to the other while reading. I hike, walk, practice archery and peace, and read, read, and read.
I wouldn’t change a thing. When it snows, I look out and admire the beauty. No need to be anywhere or do anything except exactly what I want to do.
Compost 
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