Whenever I get the urge to move back into the city, I just go down to the meadow with Shadow and realize that I could never leave the grass, the creek and creases of sunlight streaming through the trees and splashing across the grass, the mists rising above the water and the dewy early morning quiet. If I am sitting on my sofa and grading endless essays, I have only to glance out into the trees to see the birds, the sky and the natural world that has begun to embrace my whole being; I will get out there with my clippers soon, but while I am within this womb of tree leaves, branches, vines, bird call and squirrels, I will wallow in it and feel cradled in its sanctity. What is this next to concrete buildings, gum-stained sidewalks and the hubbub of the city life? This is my respite and my haven. I know God is close at hand when I am here.
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