So many swirls of emotions on getting back to my little place in Strawberry AZ, arriving Monday night. It’s like… I just left, it’s that sense of belonging and being in sync with myself. The dry cool air, the smell of pines, the quiet of the moonlight view off the back deck. It resonates.
This is my home. It is connected to me and I to it. But it’s just a place, a third of an acre and an organized set of wood frame and other bits. How does a place do this to me?
Home is this place called Strawberry.
Sadly, my strawberry plants did not survive.
More to be pondered for sure.