Dorothy in the Wizard
of Oz closes her eyes, clicks the heels of her red shoes, says, “There’s no
place like home,” and magic transports her back to Kansas. Dorothy’s trip to Oz
was unplanned; Jan and I took our recent road trip because we wanted to.
However, after 8,411.7 miles and forty-seven days, we agree there is no place like home.
The trip was great. We saw places new to us; we visited
family and friends; we had lots of outdoor time; we identified at least 115
species of birds. I’d do something similar again—just not for a while.
Once the topography changed and the woods resembled my
woods, I felt my soul begin to recharge. Exiting the car to unlock the driveway
chain, I stopped and took in a long snootful of our vernal freshness. It will
take some time to recover from forty-seven days on the road, but I’m not in a
hurry.
No one was up at the lake when we arrived. At roughly N 46.4
degrees of latitude, spring had barely begun. The first thing I had to do was
turn on the power (we’re off grid with solar panels and huge batteries) so I
could run the well pump. Given the high temperature for the day was only
forty-one, starting a fire in the fireplace was next on the list.
The only sounds besides us unpacking the car were wind caressing
the evergreen branches and occasional bird songs. At one point the quiet was so
intense all I heard was the whoosh of blood flowing through my arteries.
An eagle flew by to check us out. At night the frogs sounded
from the vernal pond.
The next day the hummingbirds found their feeders.
Chickadees, nuthatches, purple finches and goldfinches discovered proffered
sunflower seeds. A mink strolled across an open area near the house.
Sharp-shinned hawks called to each other (although unlike last year they don’t
have a nest right in front of our house.)
In the coming days we’ll experience our seventh or eighth (and
last) spring this year. (We lost count as we crisscrossed the country). Just a
few miles south of us, trees are swathed in myriad shades of new-growth green.
Here, the buds have just exploded; the leaves will shortly follow and the woods
will soon close ranks, closing down long sight into their interiors.
Coming home reminds me how blessed I am. Is there a place
that recharges your soul?
~ Jim
Oh, yes! I feel that way about Lawrence, Kansas. We moved all across the country right after college, only to boomerang back to our college town after five years away. We've been back here seven years and I'm so glad we are. Whenever we leave, I'm always so relieved when we get about 12 miles away and can see KU's Fraser Hall on the top of "Mount Oread."
ReplyDeleteGlad you're home, Jim!
Wonderful photos, Jim. Right now home for me is Kansas City, MO but my wife and I will move to Portland, OR some time this year.
ReplyDelete
ReplyDeleteJim, my little farm is that place, and indeed the whole county I've lived in my whole life. But the place I feel most at peace is when I'm walking in my woods or working in my gardens.
We have our little (7 acres) place in the foothills, and I know that feeling of recharging. I always felt the long commute into the city was worth it when I pulled into my driveway in the evening, and the only man-made structure I could see was my own house.
ReplyDeleteWe have lots of birds. I think the woodpeckers are my favorites, especially the pair of pileated woodpeckers who we can hear, and sometimes see.
Now that I'm retired, I love it even more. But I do need to get the mower going soon, or we wont be able to make it out!
As much as I'd like to say home is a place. For me, it's where my family members are. Our son and his wife are in Atlanta for another two years, until he finishes school. Our daughter is here in Northern VA with us, and our extended family is either in PA or FL. Home is spread out now. But, in our hearts, we're in Hatteras.
ReplyDeleteGlad you're happy to be home, Jim!
Sarah -- it's interesting to me how each of us gravitates to different places.
ReplyDeleteWarren -- didn't know about your move. At least you'll be in town with a great independent bookstore (Powells) when you get to Portland.
~ Jim
Gloria,
ReplyDeleteHaving walked through your woods I can understand exactly what you mean.
The gardens would only bring me peace if the weeds self-selected out!
~ Jim
KM -- those pileated woodpeckers sure can make a racket and it's a hardhat zone underneath them.
ReplyDeleteA goat would take care of the lawn for you?
~ Jim
EB -- fair enough, family can recharge your soul as well. However, I suspect that in the context of my blog, Hatteras would be the place.
ReplyDelete~ Jim
Your place sounds very much like a restful vacation spot. So going home to it is probably heavenly.
ReplyDeleteSince I live in a county of one million people, all with honking cars, my quiet place is my comfy reading armchair! Though I am working on my patio - I think when the roses are blooming, that might be my new recharge place.
ReplyDeleteI was gone for two weeks, though I was visiting, but I was thrilled to get home. I used to think I'd like to make a long car trip, but I've changed my mind. Glad you enjoyed the trip, and sounds like you are getting home at just the right time to enjoy spring.
ReplyDeleteGrace -- we vacation in more lively areas; this is home!
ReplyDeleteShari -- there is a positive thrum of energy in large cities, which I occasionally miss. The occasions become less frequent over time. :)
Polly -- the leaves have popped in the last two days when temps have reached the mid 70s in full sun. You can almost hear the leaves complain about joint pain from the too-fast growth.
~ Jim
I left my heart in California. I miss driving on the PCH that runs along and sometimes hugs the coastline. It's a treat to watch the sun set over the ocean. The giant sequoia trees in parts of California are amazing too. And there's nothing like the smell of creosote after it rains in the High Desert.
ReplyDeleteBut when I go "home" I suddenly remember the smog and endless traffic jams.
Kara -- they took paradise and put up a parking lot.
ReplyDeleteWe have a western view and so get sunsets over the lake; which is nothing to compare with those over the ocean, but we thrill to them anyway.
~ Jim