Walking through the quiet, snow-covered patch of woods in a small town north of Cincinnati, the only sound is that of feet crunching through the day-old ice and two young dogs chasing the scent of animals out looking for food or huddled under trees that had fallen months before. A nearby lake is turning to ice. The only color is that of little red berries hanging from thin, bare branches. It was in these moments, away from desks and deadlines, a dream is reawakened. The only danger to a stale routine is that of a heart again stirring for adventure.