All is said and Done

Epilogue, part 1

When we settled in at McDonald Creek, we found that where there had been a TV in the cabins before, there was none. Oh, my. We found ourselves missing our TV, Sports Center, and, it turns out, the internet. The people in the next cabin over were really missing their Reality TV, apparently. As they walked past our cabin window, they couldn’t help but stop, quite intentionally, to peer in and see what we were up to. For a good long, uncomfortable while. As if it were a perfectly normal, polite thing to do. What’s wrong with people?

The big pane glass window became an easy surrogate for our TV, as we watched the people go by, gazed out at the creek and pondered J’s Mustang. Not having a TV, not having insistent white noise in the background or a continuous barrage of information took a while to get used to. We quickly slowed down to enjoy the birds singing at dusk, the swallows flitting about above the lake, the sweet perfume of the lilac bushes around the cabins, and to find comfort in the sounds of the creek, the rain on the roof and the click and creak of the electric heaters in the darkness of night. There’s purposefulness in the manual engagement of doing dishes into a small dish rack and having to wipe them to clear off a space on the dining table to work, rather than letting them air dry. Thankfully, there’s time to slow down and decompress, and we know well enough to take it. It also lets you consider the possibility of the new. And no matter what things you miss from home, no matter how far you are from home, where you ARE, is home.


Epilogue, part 2

With all the rattling, I gave it a week, but within 48 hours of being home, J put the Mustang out to pasture back at the local Ford ranch.

Old Yeller is no more.

My Roaming Bear now has new wheels:

New wheels Click to see this photo's flickr page

With 4-doors and more cargo capacity and leg room, we’re just itching to take it out for a spin. Somewhere, out there.

The dusty trails call.