I have just moved into a small town called Croa in California.  It’s a place so far from any larger town that I forget that this is the same state houses Los Angeles and San Francisco in it.
Between my house and the woods is a meadow. Quite by accident, I’ve lived in this sort of arranged habitat before.  There was a meadow in Wyoming, then in Louisiana. Both with a forest, just beyond that meadow.
The difference here, in Croa, is that woods is really a forest and beyond this forest is as a small lake. There were no lakes at the other places I lived in.
But will this new arrangement really change anything? Probably not. I’ll probably do the same things I did when I was in those other houses in those other states.
But I will, I hope, find some things about this little lake that will perhaps get me to move to a place, in an real earnest way, not the way I’ve sort of ended up here. I want to go somewhere. Deliberately.
But I can’t right now. Because I just moved into this house. And I want to be sure that it isn’t like those other places before I move to another place.