floating

This morning the fog was so thick around the RV that it felt like complete isolation, alone in the clouds. If not for the trees’ vertical slashes of dark, we could imagine ourselves asea, surrounded by leagues of empty.

The air so wet it dripped steadily on the roof as it condensed on and fell from tree limbs above. Loud popping sounds, irregularly spaced. We have the curtains drawn, over the blinds, keeping out the cold and in the warm. Geese honk from behind them.

This wild place, so near the bustling human hive of New York City, and other places like it also only minutes removed from civilization, give me a good opportunity to do quick A/B comparisons. And for me, wilderness and removed wins every time.

This change of scenery continues to feed me and change the way I think about things. Like what’s important and how we’re shaping our children while we still can. I’m going to find a way to continue. Not the trip, but the spirit.

Kisses.


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