A move is on the horizon

 I sat on the porch of a place in Stone Mountain, Ga., the other evening and listened to the breeze in the trees.

You don’t really get that sound in Central Texas. The trees here are not big enough and thick enough to make a chorus.

The sound — more a rush than a whisper — reminded me of the forests of East Texas. As a younger man, I spent a beautiful morning sitting under a stand of longleaf pine in the Upland Island Wilderness, just listening.

I was in Georgia, hauling worldly goods to a new home. Another load should do it.

The last time I spent three months away from Texas was when I was in the Navy. I got out at age 20, almost 50 years ago. So there will be some culture shock.

But already, the place is speaking to me. I’ve just got to listen.