Pioneer gateway to the west: one half mile of westering by this rutted trail leads to the promised land, beckoning, awaiting discovery. First visit since the purchase. It is the tenth of January, 1959. Merilee and I are traveling to the far end of the road, a three hour cozy journey. Introspection gliding on a cushion of motion, two in a pod, good old Dodge, purring agreeably. Approach apprehensively, what would it really be like? Then, tires pressing patterns in the snow, this must be where the forty acres begins, yes, where the tiny meadow is. Ours. All the trees. Ours. On that side of the trail, along here to--see the post--here. Arrival. At the old bridge. Engine turned off, we listened to the awesome quiet. Expectantly, Merilee glanced about, achieving an, "a'hem. Ah, yes, of course: THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES; how lovely!" expression.