Now where is this blog going? Mars, the home of my people who live in their own freak shadows?
No, I’d saved this post title for future use and it now strikes me as spot-on for our move out west. Or is it “out West,” given the imposing contiguous expanses of prairie grass and high desert coniferous forest? It involves all my energies, senses and wheelbarrows of thought to comprehend what I’ve gotten us into.
God has a plan. I’ve always believed that, and am reminded constantly of it as we swim in our life lanes, effect change (chaos in my case), and exercise the free will given us. I leave it to my friend KJ and other philosophers to work out the twists of predetermination theory, and I just roll with the ebbs and tides of my life.
Recently, a weird habit again surfaced: cloud watching. I discovered many years ago that the wind talks -- if you’re willing to take the time to listen. The clouds become a compelling overlay onto the day’s story, one I intensely take to heart, so I cannot wait to resume that relationship. It’s on the wind’s terms, though: once my younger son was wind gust-knocked over, flat on his back(!), along an open ridge in the northern Rockies. After the shock wore off, we laughed our butts off as we hurried back to the Suburban, clearly getting the message to vamoose!
To my memories of southern Maryland, the Eastern Shore, Lyman’s Run SP in PA, Moomaw Lake VA, Cass Scenic Railroad WV, and most poignantly Green Ridge SF/C&O Canal Trail, I bid ye “Adieu!” Bye bye love – but your trails and songs stay in my heart.
(Hey -- stay tuned for a recap of tales from the Interstate trails, and life-to-be in Boise)
