I knew I would love writing to Rebecca Hoogs’s prompt  which calls for re-grounding in the language of physical place I looked forward to tracing  verbally  one of the routes familiar to me: the way through sagebrush to a pond in the gully below my house where  as a six year old  I looked for frogs  or the way on horseback through Reno’s outskirts  where  as an adolescent  I’d ride into the foothills to find shade among pines  or the way up logging roads above the Nooksack River outside Van Zandt  Washington  to the washout at Skookum Creek where  in August  you can be surrounded by tiny purple butterflies