Or maybe it's vice versa. Without looking up that particular Bible verse, I can't be certain.
One of my many bios circulating about on books or websites states I love the plains and Kentucky mountains in equal measure. Both are "home" to me.
While living in the mountains of Kentucky I longed for the plains of Kansas and Nebraska, the winds that blow here almost daily, the often violent demarcation of seasons, the smell of sweet clover and ripe wheat or corn silage simmering in silos. Nowhere on earth does crisp, snow-washed winter air smell as sweet as it does here in the plains.
Now I'm in the plains and grieving for the rugged terrain of my southeastern Kentucky mountains. I especially miss those spectacular morning and evening fogs, creeping fingerlike through hollers, suffusing forests in shrouds of white, and streaming straight up into the air from caves. And I miss those cold Kentucky rains memorialized in song by Elvis.
The ideal would be to own houses in both the plains and mountains, but interstate travel is daunting and I'm not as adventuresome as I once was. My adventures today are travels of the mind and spirit, savoring moments and memories. Today I look out the window to my left and see limbs bowed with the weight of apricots. At this very moment in Kentucky, the dogwoods are in bloom and morning fog is swirling skyward in the sunlight. I'm blessed to have two homes and a mind that will transport me instantaneously between both places.
Home is where my heart is, here or there, wherever memories, friends, and loved ones live. My treasure lies at both ends of a rainbow that arcs between two places.
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