Thursday, December 31, 2009

from townhouse to nomad house

December 29th, 2009, we have thrust ourselves upon the snowy highways heading into our other life, on the road again.  What a feeling of freedom, adventure and anticipation.  Our motor home (Gee-2) survived the Mid-Atlantic snowstorm in Covesville, (near Charlottesville) Virginia, on our son’s farm.  It is a Polar-Bear of a rig, hearty and ready to go, like the rest of us who have lived so long in the north country. It started up immediately, allowing us to stay aboard the first night upon arrival.

Our son Dan, daughter-in-law, Malena and Ali and Corey spent a cozy week under 2 1/2 feet of snow.  They put on skis, snowshoes, boots, and big smiles to care for the chickens, dogs and cats and visited neighbors.  They live in a Hollow on the Blue Ridge, a community of friendly and loving neighbors. 

It is so exciting to be on the brink of our Winter 2010 trek. The process of leaving our Rochester life is always one of “letting go” of the most recent get-togethers and experiences.  Our thoughts still linger on life as we have left it, friends and  family members, the joys and sorrows we have shared in the past weeks.  How wonderful to live in this electronic era to be able to stay in touch in so many ways and share the lives of all of you as we share our travels with you.

So many thoughts rush into my head as we look forward to the months ahead, including a special trip to Havana, Cuba, visiting family in Florida and Los Angeles and catching up with friends strung out across the country.  How lucky we are to have choices, to be able to seek adventure and to enjoy such wonderful family members and friends. 

Outside my window, I face my kid’s house—they are inside engaging in a session of home schooling, staying warm by the wood burning stove. 

Outside my window I see the forest behind the house, encased in fog and mist, beautiful and speaking to the unusual wintery weather that has come their way.  A lovely send-off to the weeks ahead as we continue on the road.

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Ann Carol Goldberg