There’s a place set apart, where transformation awaits. Birch leaves shimmer, hinting at treasures—golden wisdom just one breath, one breeze, away— as one maple tree blazes a flame of red, as an unexpected guide with wings appears, reigniting something in me, something like, what? New belief? More belief?

I’m passing through, following streams of fractured light, the autumn rains of yesterday have cleared the sky today. Only “misty flats” of lacy clouds remain overhead. The sun warms my back as I walk down this road, believing I’m headed home.

In the silence of this lovely fall morning, I’ve come too far to turn back now. I know it’s time to turn, to return. I’m wondering where I am. My sister will be wondering, too. Lost so easily, I will retrace my steps. Whispering words, like prayers, I begin to think, indeed, I am lost.

Then there she is, standing so still, as if sculpted into these moments, her eyes meeting mine, standing at the intersection, pointing the way home.

What sparks renewed reverence more than all this? What moves one from strength to strength as we travel on?

Nature points me to the sacred, restoring, guiding this one wandering soul Home.

We got lost on the way home from Eagle River yesterday. How hard is it to stay on Hwy 45? How did we end up on Hwy 29…? The trip that should have taken 4 hours took 6. But we stopped along the way and ended up at the Packer Pro Shop. Joanie adores the Packers and said getting lost was a Godsend…