It’s time for me to go hug a cactus.
From a perch in the mountains of Vermont, winter knocking at the door, I am going to be starting today the looping road back to my home in Strawberry Arizona. Excepting a month in July when I returned for a visit, I’ve been on the road from there since late January, including a 5 month stay in Fredericksburg, and the last 2 months bopping around the northeast and Canada. My GPS has logged 9000 miles since I rolled out of my driveway, and that is an underestimate.
I had plotted to pick up parts of my trip I missed last year, to head out to the Canada Maritimes, visit people like Stephen Downes in New Brunswick, the dynamic duo of Dave Cormier and Bon Stewart in PEI, and Grant Potter in Nova Scotia.
It’s a long trek, even from here, in gloomy November, and I was teetering on the edge of decision… but I am feeling road weary and am just going to have to cite Arnold. I’ve had the best of the best of hosts, but I am eager to be not moving for at least a few months, to be in my own bed, chopping wood for the stove, walking the Pines, hanging out with my friends at THAT Brewery, cooking my own food, maybe just reading and writing and not driving.
It’s time to go home.
I just have most of America between me and there.
The plan is to head to Baltimore, where I left stuff ant my sister’s house, and to visit family. I am then headed to see lev Gonick in Cleveland, with maybe a stop at State College to see my man Cole 9and hopefully Kevin), and a visit with Barbara Sawhill in Oberlin, just in time to do a live audio event with barbara Ganley on November 15.
From here, the route is uncertain, just where the map and the wheel feel like going. I might zip the interstate or zig zag the state roads. Maybe weather will drive me.
I could be home by Thanksgiving, almost a year to the date I returned from my last loop.
From there, who knows? That is my job now to put my feet up and conjure the next Thing. No place like