There's nothing very special about Meadow Knoll, not really, except that we have lived in this place for over twenty years, long enough to know the fragile grasses and the animals who live among them, the sturdy trees and their birds, the creek and its dwellers, the now-and-then moods of the changeable sky, the slant of the sun against the blessing of the hills.
But that is enough. For me, that is everything, and each time I return after an absence, I think with pleasure and a sense of relief, Yes, I am home. And then, so quickly that it is not a second thought, but a stumbling into the real meaning of the first: No, I am home. Home is where I am. And that is right, and good, and true.
—Together, Alone: A Memoir of Marriage and Place