It has been a tumultuous month full of good-byes, hellos, and welcome homes. The reluctant departure from my two-year home in Tartu and my exciting arrival back to Wyoming. My sentiments have been too complex and my fingers to lazy to blog about all of my findings. One thing I have thought a lot about since coming back is about our human connection to the land. Although I can appreciate verdant meadows and thick forests and wonder at daily drizzles and rain showers, I acknowledge that a piece of my soul belongs here on the prairie. Stepping off the plane from my two-day trans-continental journey from Estonia, I knew the moment that I breathed in the dry sweet-smelling air that I was home. I am not sure I can describe very accurately a scent that I have always known -- a crisp mixture of sweet clover, sage brush, and wide open spaces. The landscape here could not be more different that my home-that-was and my home-to-be on the East Coast. Rolling hills and breath-taking horizons, you can sometimes see over 100 miles into the distance. All of this space is unnerving to some, but I think a small part of the prairie was planted inside of me and, as it is every time I visit, I just know intuitively that parts of me will always be more at home here than any other place.
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