I have this should-be achievable monthly blog about writing, how I do it or don’t—as in the recent nonexistent May post! So, here’s my excuse. I was on sabbatical. Brain recharge leave.
The last week in March, we started out on a road trip to Vermont and stayed through most of April. During that time we had a handful of peeks at the sun, including two entirely clear days. The rest were as seen here.
My sister’s driveway during Spring in Vermont – which the natives call Mud Season. But Mud season seemed to also have taken a mini-sabbatical.
To paraphrase Shel Silverstein, this is “Where the Sidewalk DOESN’T End.” It continues…as did the snow.
But it’s prettier from the inside looking out–
–As she soon discovered, having brought a windbreaker and a see-through sweater as outer wear because, “It’s SPRING in Vermont. I don’t need anything heavy.” Some days with single digits proved otherwise.
The car suffered, but not nearly as much as the day we left, when it had to be chipped out of a block of ice. Okay, a very slight exaggeration. But we did learn to appreciate the heated seats we laughed at in Florida. Still, fair is fair. Auto makers need to install a seat cooling option as well.
So what did I learn from all this?
Patience: A little bit more than I started with. Playing cards and drinking wine could be fun. Having no cell phone service wasn’t the end of the world. Sharing memories and reliving the events was better than junk on TV.
Gratitude: A family as warm as Florida. Meeting new friends. A wedding to celebrate. A roof over our heads in a cozy house with every comfort provided as if we were visiting royalty. No writing deadlines. Being able to walk the aisles in the food Co-op, in the or in Walmart across the line in New Hampshire was healthy exercise–for me, if not the budget.
On our return to Florida, we dumped out the dirty laundry and repacked for a trip to Pensacola for Walt’s Navy Reunion into May. This was payback to my husband for all the times he lost me in Beall’s (are they still called department stores?) in Florida. (During which HE learned patience.) Actually, I dodged him up and down the aisles to be sure he got his exercise, too.
And here we are in Pensacola:
I expressed the opinion that perhaps “Anytime, Anywhere” might be misconstrued when applied to a group of Navy men. Then again, it may only be my view, having married one.
We watched a practice for the Blue Angels, and toured the Pensacola Naval Air Museum, where we observed a retirement assembly. And my honey posed in full dress uniform aboard the USS Alabama in–of all places–Alabama!
And that’s where I’ve been. Now, it’s back to work. My deadlines loom in the distance. I’m beginning to miss that Little House in the Big Wood! (Apologies to Laura Ingalls Wilder.)