mmm...fertilizer.

I was born in Orem, Utah but as the story goes, ten days later I was on a flight headed to Arizona where I would spend the first fourteen years of my life. I loved growing up in a house that my great-grandparents had built.

The elementary school I attended was built on land previously owned by my (great) grandpa Miller. I remember naively thinking, I will never move.

As fate would have it, my mum sat me down and said we were moving to Utah so she could go to law school. Strangely, my first concern was whether we were taking the pup pups with us. Matthew understandably wasn't quite as calm about the prospect, 'specially as he was about to start his senior year of high school.

We have now had our house in Utah now for fifteen years, though I have not lived there for that entire time. Two years in Provo. Just over a year in Florida - and in Florida I lived in three cities. And three years in Greensboro - with three residences there, too.

When playing with the Old Time Ensemble, we usually introduced ourselves to the audience. The introduction would consist of one's name, major area of study, and from whence you hailed. Generally, I would cop out and say, I'm from the West. (No, that is NOT the Ohio, thankyouverymuch!) Once I joked with a friend I should say, I'm a resident of NC for tuition purposes. But I chickened out. This simple exercise brought a large question to the fore: where the heck AM I from?

Today, as I've visited with relatives, it has made me ponder the question again. One uncle began talking about family and roots. Which made me think, well, not all roots are the same.

Take the cactus. After all, we are in Arizona right now. We learn that the cactus has very shallow roots, that are near the surface so as to take advantage of even the slightest bit of rainfall.

Then there is the awful no good horrible Oregon grape. Where, even if you dump half a thing of poison on its roots, it still comes back to taunt you. Or the bulbs, that geow every year, and can be divided and spread out. Or the tap roots of those naughty dandelions. Or, or, or.

Though I still struggle with an honest answer of, where is my hometown, I do take comfort that perhaps it's not where I from, but that I do put down roots were I am. Food for thought, that is.