Instead of the river, there are now trees. Instead of big, tall windows that let in 14 hours of summer sun, there are smaller, shaded windows and a cooler, darker, sweeter space, sprinkled with dapled spots of bright light. How does “place” define us? Interesting question. I look for deer now, not the heron, I look for the skunk at night. I collect blue jay feathers and listen for the cries of the hawks. I pull the pup from the poison ivy and she looks at me as if to say, “when are we going home?” and I say, “little girl, we are home”.