NASA's space rover, Spirit, has landed on Mars and is making good headway upon its surface.

After a dreaded incubation of six months, last weekend I uprooted my life from Cincinnati and moved to Dayton, a satellite city to the north one long hour. I had faced the following dilemma: an increasingly dissatisfying job (dare I call it a career?) with a two hour daily orbit on the highway; and a rental property here in need of fixing up. I made the decision to move: To fix the place up in preparation to sell; to live more cheaply; and to be more alert for the next step -- whatever and wherever that might be.

Once the dust has settled, it is time for Grace and I to unfold; to extend our limbs and make an initial scan of the territory. The wind roars past corners of the outpost. Inside, it quietly creaks and rattles. I bundle myself carefully: An old winter jacket, military surplus pants, a long black scarf and a wool cap. Grace wears a protective black coat and a collar with a brightly-beaded reflective surface. As we slowly span the horizon and take note of our surroundings, it appears that we are the only living creatures.

It is time to take our first steps. We spot our objective: A brown and grey crater that is a park two blocks away. The egress path looks clear. We follow the sun, the color of burnished copper, hovering low and full against a steel sky. The trees are placed in symmetry, blackened and withered like frozen arteries. Does water exist here? Grace burrows her snout into the surface, retrieving information. She snorts in pleasure, jerking me along behind her. Does she detect carbon-based material? We see rock forms unlike any seen before and move ackwardly forward in these strange surroundings.

We saw the first signs of life this morning: Trundling along the perimeter of the crater, two Canadian geese -- equally brown and grey -- flew overhead. They honked in panic as if they had lost their way. Can this place offer the potential for suitable living?

It is odd and surprising how, in facing the object of dread, things sometimes turn a corner in an unexpected way. In the most unlikely and desolate of places, and in the most unlikely and desolate of times. I feel myself grow stronger.

A new frontier.