I live in Oregon, on the outskirts of a city where there's a scattering of cedar trees native only to this area. Most of the cedars here have grown for over a century, adding growth rings as farmhouses and cookie-cutter housing tracts were built around them. Years ago, I moved into one of those cedar-lined neighborhoods as a newlywed. At the time, I didn't appreciate our house--I'd envisioned something larger, sunnier, and certainly not an hour's drive from my workplace as a French teacher. But it was near the job my husband loved, and he'd purchased it just before we'd gotten engaged. Moving to a point halfway between our workplaces still would have required a moderate commute for both of us. So instead of moving, we agreed that I would leave my teaching position at the end of that year.