Perspectives

Old Man's Cave, Middle Earth, and the pleasures of losing your way The first time I visited Hocking Hills was about fifteen years ago with some friends. Somehow, we ended up on one of the more challenging trails. At least, I assume it was a trail. We climbed over enormous boulders and jumped down the other side to continue following what appeared to be a trail. We walked for hours, farther and farther into the forest, until we found a stone staircase that took us even lower i

The road bends, and the Sangre de Cristo Mountains come into view, rising above the high desert. The air smells faintly of piñon and juniper. Ravens drift across the enormous blue sky. And then there is the light—that unmistakable New Mexico light that somehow makes every color richer and every shadow more alive. Every time I return to northern New Mexico, I have the same thought: I'm home. It has never made logical sense to me. I didn't grow up there. I've never lived there.