My Main Line Home

The snow is high past my knees, and many of the roads here are not yet plowed, but this morning, with a bad case of cabin fever, I set out. I think I live in one of the world's prettiest places. It's not exotic. It's not nearly perfect. I don't often belong. But when snow falls and wind blows I can walk within 30 minutes to a scene like this—all open space and blue. I can count the stripes between the trees, and I can talk to myself about the novel I am writing or about a problem that i...