Years ago in a book group we had an interesting discussion about our “sense of place.” It was all about where, in the natural world, we feel most at home. I found this a most intriguing question and was very interested in the variety of responses. For example, for some people, a canopy of trees is important. And for others, the wide open spaces and sky was something they were drawn to. I had a friend at the time who loved the desert; a place that, while I can appreciate its beauty, never appealed to me. Since many of these differences did not relate to where people grew up or currently lived, it seemed to me that they were attached to something primordial in our souls. But then, who knows.
As I sit here towards the end of February in what my family from Texas call “the tundra” and dream of warmth and sun, I thought it might be interesting to get over a hump day by talking about our sense of place. While I have deep roots in this place that I live and love the community, the natural world here has always felt in conflict with my soul. I hate the dark short days of winter and the hot, humid, mosquito-infested summers. So I only have a few months out of the year when I really want to be outside and experience the natural beauty that is in the area.