The idea was, tractor, grade, pull out some stumps and rocks. Change up the footing a bit, maybe re-route some of the sprinklers. And voila. 72’x115′, perhaps longer even, of space that would be just for us. Agility field with a view.

The views here, so foreign and breathtaking. I’ve fallen down and hit shit because of not being able to avert my eyes. Banksy’s sore leg has meant either she stays home, or we all take a leash walk on the pavement up to the top of our road. Holy crap. The things you can see from up there, and the things you can see from our 3 mile loop, 5 mile loop, 7 mile loop, even just the up and back through the gate towards the split. Sisters and Mt. Bachelor, other Cascades, Mt Jefferson, Mt Hood, the Ochocos, Smith Rock, Pine Mountain, Horse Ridge, Powell Butte, Paulina Peak. You stand and rotate and they all are there, never the same view twice.

Some days the mountains move closer, up in your face. Other days they fade back into bruise colored skies. Some days obscured by clouds, other days they stick out sharp and in your face. Always something different, there’s less atmosphere up here and it messes with your eyes.

25,000 acres of wild, secluded land out back to walk around and take in views. A big trade off for all the other things now. Will I miss it? Yes I will. Do we ever know things for sure, where our path is supposed to take us? I dunno. You’re supposed to know when you tread on the sparkle path, is what I thought. Exactly where it goes. When you do major life things, you’re supposed to have the best and final plans.

Change is good. That’s what everybody says. But like most things, there’s a lot of gray areas between the black and white, so what that change is might be elusive. Maybe you get it wrong, maybe you get it right. Maybe moving back to fires and floods and taxes and traffic beats guns and snow and stunted goals and floor to ceiling windows. Maybe not. An 8 stall barn, dressage arena and a dumpy little house? Oak trees with redwoods out back? Northwestern cedar paneling and a insulated shop with pines and firs and junipers? With an icy driveway needing shoveling on zero degree days?

Be the change you want to see. RBG. Try to keep things moving in the right direction, and change course when it seems wrong. Everyone hates the winter. Everyone loves snow. When you’re not everyone, you have to just wing it on your own.

I will miss that road home, that’s for sure. Take the last bend in the road and look out onto the desert vista, just above the gate. Drive up that shit to shovel drive, under those big tree arms that need some pruning, look out that vista where we walk every day, just me and the dogs, just us walking together and looking for giant rabbits and mountains and favorite junipers, alive or dead. Onward and upward, to the next step on the path.