I like cities. I like the parts of my identity that they stimulate. They say, “Ooh la la. I am busy. I am important. I am educated.”

I love London. It’s rich in history and tradition and pomp and circumstance. I like Miami. It twists and turn with culture and electricity. The food and the lights both entice and delight me.

But cities don’t speak to me generally. They don’t actually talk to me. I feel their energy and love it. But the energy often flashes on its way somewhere else twirling around me in a kaleidoscope of colors.

The ocean, which I love, does speak to me. The ocean says it’s happy I am there and opens little crevasses to microcosmic worlds of crustaceans and plants. The ocean lets me hang out for a while but like I’m a guest. The ocean expects me to leave. It wishes me well each time I am baptized in the salt water and looks forward to seeing me again.

But the moment on that day in June when I crossed under the arch to a ranch in Wyoming– despite the darkness– the land began speaking. But it had different things to say than what the ocean shares with me.

The hills are drenched in early summer deep intoxicating green. The grass ripples and ebbs and flows with the wind like an ocean. In Wyoming, peaking sedimentary rocks jut from the tops of scraggly hills. Treeless ridges are covered with grass that looks like velvet and some hills are covered in evergreens. Long lengths of wooden X shaped fences form seemingly useless barriers against what I assume are cold, white snows that blast through during winter and sometimes deep into spring.

Water is everywhere running and dripping down moist hillsides for irrigation. The confluence of two creeks create a constant sound of life and movement.

I didn’t want the land on this Wyoming ranch to talk to me. It knows that. So it first embraced me to make sure I was safe and comfortable enough to accept its message.

It hasn’t let go of that embrace. It kept me held tight while I took in the sight, sound, smell, feel of the land. And then it started whispering with more urgency to make sure I understood.

It says “Welcome Home.”