At the beginning of September, I spent a week by myself at my family’s cabin in the Red Desert. It was a self-designed writing retreat, and I walked for two or three hours each morning, wrote the rest of the day, and took another shorter walk in the evenings. I usually picked up my writing again for an hour or two after dark. I also played several rounds of pasture golf on the “course” my dad designed way back when I was a kid, which consists of nine four fairways with a bush or fence post serving as the flag for each one.

I wasn’t totally off-grid since I could find cell service in high places and send “all-is-well” messages to my husband. My brother acquired a solar panel for the cabin this summer, and being able to charge my laptop was a game changer. As much as I’d like to be an old-fashioned, pen-and-ink writer, I write more deeply and effectively on a computer, especially during revision, when I’m often moving large blocks of text around like I’m rearranging furniture.

I didn’t see another human being while I was there, though I had my good dogs, Snips and Djinn, with me. I did encounter multiple small leks of sage chicken, lots of antelope, (I know they’re technically grouse and pronghorn, but I grew up calling them by their informal nicknames), an immature golden eagle, many mule deer, and several herds of wild horses. I also heard a meadowlark, which I’m not sure I have experienced in September before. None of these fellow desert lovers were sparkling conversationalists, but I feel like they each told something with me important anyway.

I soaked in the place, reflected on wilderness, and mulled over scenes and stuck-points in my novel-in-progress. By the last day, during my final round of golf, I realized I was engaging in rather lengthy conversations with myself, so it was probably time to rejoin society. But, truth be told, give me my husband, my son, and my horse out there and occasional visits from family and friends, and you might never see me in town again.

More than any of my writing insights, that’s what I came away with, the deep and certain knowledge that I can always find my way to my truest home.