After briefly attending college as a music major, then playing music professionally for 7 years, a backpacking trip culminated in a shift of focus. I returned to college to pursue a formal education in horticulture and began walking a path that remains just as fresh and gratifying today as it was then, though the depth of my appreciation for the terrain has expanded immeasurably. Today, I am just as eager to continue learning about the critical role of soil micro-organisms, whether a particular butterfly or other insect is a generalist or specialist in its host plant requirements, if the birds in our region are insect, seed, or fruit eaters, and whether the "new" plant that shows up in a wild landscape or new installation is native or non, annual, biennial or perennial, as I was thrilled in college to first learn proper plant names, leaf anatomy, or that the flowers of a particular woody species could be all male on one plant, all female on another, or some combination of both. How all of these things, and a myriad of others, relate and interact is endlessly fascinating to me. I endeavor at every decision-making fork-in-the-road to use all I have learned in choosing apparently best land management strategies, always following-up by keenly observing the outcome. There is always more to see. Our landscapes and the organisms that live within them form a marvelously intricate system that interrelates in magnificently complex ways. This system, that we are such an inseparable part of and yet are so often uniformed about and often recklessly indifferent toward, is in as great a need of our reconsideration and renewed respect as we are in emotional, spiritual and even physical need of reconnection with it. This perspective is at the heart of why I do what I do and why I endeavor through personal physical effort and communication at the one-on-one and class levels (via teaching and lecturing) to share, illuminate and possibly inspire others to take a second look.