| Article: | GUEST COLUMN: Best part of journey is finding your way home I spent my early years in a quiet country town, in airy fields and small houses. At play, I would lose myself in hills of queen ann's lace and transparent dandelions. Rolling and tumbling, I had not a care in the world. A soft, unpretentious brook brought whispers of coolness and color. It swelled gently, yet without much attention. All of life moved without applause. It stirred with a spectacular rhythm and simplicity innately its own. |