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What a long, curious trip this has been.

I've been writing columns for the New River Valley Current for 15 years now. When I sat down to write my first one, I decided I would focus mostly on Rye Hollow, the isolated patch of Appalachia that I call home. I'd write about nature and country living. Moreover, my column would be a journey of self discovery, an in-depth exploration of a particular place and -- by extension, I hoped -- an affirmation of why the rural character of the New River Valley as a whole should be appreciated and preserved.

I'd write about some of the people I met along the way and about some of the odd little things that made living in such a place so interesting to me. That's how I came to write so many columns about such a diverse range of subjects.

Some of the people I met in this place will always be a part of what made it so special to me. For instance, I'll never forget the day I met Banie Dowdy, who lives up the road from me and keeps a flock of guinea hens on her place. Banie taught me that guinea hens are better than watchdogs and have the additional advantage of keeping the bugs down in one's tomato patch. (Try training a Doberman to do that!) I still drive by her place several times a week and notice she has more guineas than ever. She's even added a couple of fine-looking peacocks to her growing flock.

Another neighbor was always there when we needed him and became the reluctant hero of several of my columns. When my wife and I moved to Rye Hollow, one of the first people we met was Bob, who owned the land across the road from ours. I'll never forget the day he chugged up the driveway on his tractor to introduce himself and to welcome us to this place. He has since moved to Florida, but when Bob lived across the road you couldn't find a better neighbor. Without having to ask, he would show up to plow our road after gully washers and snowstorms. He's also responsible for showing me how to move cows from one pasture to another with no more than a short piece of garden hose and a hearty voice. I guess that was about as close to cowboying as I'll ever get, and I'm grateful he gave me the opportunity.

In addition to introducing readers to some of the people I met along the way, I also enjoyed sharing my thoughts on my day-to-day experiences in Rye Hollow. I learned to be a careful observer of nature and rediscovered the value of cultivating a child's natural sense of wonder and curiosity, a quality that is often lost or diminished as we grow into adulthood.

I tried to share this quality in the columns I wrote. I hoped my readers would feel what I felt when I learned that spring peepers and other frogs survive the winter by having something like biological antifreeze that keeps their blood from turning to ice. Or that the tiny, ruby-throated hummingbird, which is a common visitor each summer, travels thousands of miles each fall to spend its winters in southern Mexico and Central America. That donkeys protect calves and lambs from predation by coyotes, that one little brown bat can consume as many as 1,200 mosquitoes per hour, or that under ideal conditions a box turtle can live for 100 years. In every column I wrote, I tried to show how fortunate we felt to be living in Rye Hollow and why such Appalachian woodlands should be preserved for future generations.

I've enjoyed writing this column. However, every journey has its end and I think that time has come for this one. As a way of explaining myself, I could offer a metaphor or two: I need time to recharge my batteries or time to blaze a trail in a new direction. But mostly it's because I'm lazy by nature. I need to sit a spell in a place where I don't need to search for something new to write about every few weeks. Where there are no editors. No looming deadlines. After 15 years of squeezing every idea I could from my life in Rye Hollow, I need to take a break before I get any more tedious than I already am.

For those of you who have taken time out of your day to read the nonsense I've written over the years, you have my sympathy and heartfelt appreciation. I'm sure you could have put your time to better use. Maybe our paths will cross again someday.

Until then, adios amigos. I hope you've enjoyed the trip as much as I have.

Steve Kark is the author of two novels and teaches writing and coordinates the internship program for the English department at Virginia Tech.