When I was 8-9. Parents bought a house way out in the sticks. Almost no neighbors, and silence and wilderness everywhere.

We lived in a noisy suburb with kids everywhere. Even then, I kept to myself, so moving wasn't a big deal.

I loved exploring and looking at rocks and trees and things. There wasn't much of that in suburbia.

But this house they got had all of that and more. It had a steep rock canyon on one side and a river, and down the hike a bit, a nice creek. The very first thing my dad did was take me to the canyon and river and showed me how dangerous they were. OFF LIMITS for FEAR OF A BEATING.

The creek was mine to explore from top to bottom. It was interesting and challenging but about as dangerous as a WaterPik.

The new house was on top of a hill. I had the choice of my feet, a bike, a pony, or a motorcycle. Dad got me an as new motorcycle. It was a perfect fit for me. Easy power, easy to operate, easy to maintain and go. The pony was a lie, but I didn't want one, anyway.

I had access to all the wilderness and the leaves and rocks and trees to look at and more. It was as if my parents had bought me Disneyworld.

In the summer, I'd get on my cycle before noon and vanish all day...the only rule was to let my parents know where I was going and to be home for dinner.

I had a backpack, and I'd put a sandwich and a Coke in there and go. GTG all day long.

If parents let a kid do this today, CPS would be called on them, and it would make national news. Back then, it was just a kid sitting next to a creek and reading a book or looking at leaves while her motorcycle sat nearby.

Finally, it was all these wanderings that lit a match on my interests. Some years later, I would graduate from a top college with two fantastic degrees in Biology.

I think in that place was when my life really began.