Standing atop the hill at Winfrey Point and looking west across White Rock Lake, I am faced with a vast field of wildflowers, the towering presence of trees, and a bench hewn from stone and wood.  Surrounding this spot live the many wonders of a natural oasis tucked neatly into an urban sprawl that constantly presses in from all sides.  Here, in the absence of people, being alone means something quite different—and less lonely—than it does elsewhere.