Dear Friends
Built into a sharp incline, my house clings to the hillside, with a sprawling woodland vista that changes throughout the year. In summer, leafy branches intertwine, completely obscuring the forest floor below. Thick verdure turns crisp in the fall—greens mellowing to shades of gold, saffron, and rust before drifting to the ground. Winter affords the most detailed views of the land, as bare trees stretch their limbs heavenward, swaying in the wind as if to say, “Ta-da!” From my perch high above, I survey the openness of the scene, which seems to beckon exploration. But I know from experience that what looks like a gentle slope is actually a steep ridge that is incredibly arduous to traverse.
Given my previous attempts at scaling our mountainous surroundings, imagine my…
