It’s 11 PM and I’ve just returned home from visiting a friend. Tonight, as always, when I turned down the narrow dirt road leading to my house I was struck by the ethereal nighttime look and feel of the Maritime Forest. The road is not much more than a path, barely wide enough for two cars to pass in most places. There are no street lights here – indeed there are only five houses in this secluded part of the Outer Banks – and coming home after dark requires high beams, which not only light up the road, but illuminate the thick canopy of trees that intertwine and overhang the road. The experience is more like moving through a living, breathing tunnel than driving down a road and I am suddenly swept away by the memory of my very first night in this house.

It was July of 2004. That night, I also came home late, and I remember thinking how spooky it was driving down that long, secluded road after dark. There had been a heavy rain that evening and I dodged mud puddles in the road as the trees overhead splashed big, fat drops on my windshield. I wound my way up the unfamiliar Continue reading →

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