Ten days ago, I wrote a few words and edited a photograph, and uploaded them to my blog. I felt relieved that I'd caught up to the current day, but dismayed to know that the next time I posted, I'd be ten days behind again. That's the curse of a blogger who loves to get out on the road and explore, to visit friends, to geocache, to just find someplace I've never been before.
I loved my week with friends near Lake Wenatchee, a winter wonderland this year. The trees were laden with snow, the rivers and streams were icing over, bank to bank. It was beautiful, but the weather made it hard to get out with my camera every day. Every day it got colder, too... on Saturday we went to a private winery party, and when we left, it was 2 degrees. We watched the snow fall (15+ inches in the first few days), sat by the fire, talked and caught up, and cooked together. It was heavenly.
I never thought I had the wanderlust gene. I looked forward to vacation every year, but loved being at home, and always thought I was happiest in my own home. , but the past year I've really become to understand that part of me. I love my home, my little farmhouse on five beautiful serene acres, and I love the things I create while I'm there.
But I also love the road, the road that takes me to the amazing places in this beautiful country of ours. Places you can find just by getting off the freeway and following those hidden side roads. Following your nose, following the winding road, letting the schedule slip just long enough to see what else is out there.