The fantastic familiar, as viewed from atop a hill.

There is a bend in I-94, just past Zeeb, as I head out of Ann Arbor, going west. It marks the boundary of my territory—the area that I know best. I know that beyond Zeeb lies adventure. There's aways a landmark to border my territory. When I was younger, that border was a line of pine trees. They rose … Continue reading The fantastic familiar, as viewed from atop a hill.