Midwestern prairie strikes me inconsolably barren when I first visit: vast swaths of flat earth, featureless corn fields, incessant wind, brutal heat.

My unmet desire for a life based on the comfort of prescribed roles morphs slowly into an ‘inner odyssey’ of creative adventure. 

Perched on the porch of the house I occupy in a small-city neighborhood, a couple strolling the sidewalk sees me and stops.

I attend a bustling art fair and run into Grace, an acquaintance from long ago. During the 45 minutes we ‘hang out’ at the booth of a shared friend …

I visit friends when a single, laser-sharp bird call pierces the outdoors where we gather. Stunned by its raw beauty and bold delivery, we scan our surroundings for a glimpse …

At two years of age, Henry moves his body with an economy suggestive more of wise elder than young poodle pup. Neither skip nor squirm betrays enthusiasm or interferes with the silent, zen-like bearing of his slender ten-pound frame.