This arroyo, which feeds into the Santa Fe River, is a place I visited every morning while I was in a period of fast transition. In a matter of two months I had quit a job, went back to school, got a new job, moved out of my rental and moved my mother across several states. These choices came with an abrupt lifestyle change as I went from slow living among farms along the Rio Grande to early morning alarms, hour long commutes, new stresses and responsibilities. During a two month pet sitting gig, I walked this arroyo every morning. I often rolled right out of my bed into my robe and to the trail, passing faces that would come to be familiar. This morning routine gave me a sense of place and consistency at a time of rapid change. Watching the succession of spring and summer blooms, the sound of my crocs crunching in the pebbly sand, the never failing grin on a dogs face; these became my morning mediations as I started my life over for what felt like the 100th time. Every twist of an aspen leaf in the wind, every “good morning” from a passing stranger, the dovetailing buzz of bees as I passed the blooming chamisas, grounding me to place; reminding me that everywhere I go, there I am.