Images of life.

Jetsetting #4

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It’s much greener around Houston than I ever realised. I always thought Texas was dry and dusty. I guess I have based that assumption on too many movies and TV shows.
Is it bad form to blame John Wayne and Chuck Norris?

Flying into Dallas, I can see that the same presumption is wrong there, too. Hollywood has a lot to answer for.
The city lights in Dallas are just coming on as dusk falls. It looks really pretty from the air.

I wonder if Dallas has free-range cowboys. Houston didn’t have any that I could see. The only cowboy boots I saw all day were my own.

Roadtripping #13

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I woke very early this morning to the sound of rain on the roof of the RV. The humid warmth of the night melted into the crisp punctuation of
big fat, lazy drops of rain splattering one after the other, until the rain gradually became softer and steadier.
I closed the windows and roof vents just in time.

Call me crazy, but rain changes everything. It’s beautiful.
This morning in West Virginia, It adds contrast in the trunks and branches of naked or newly-budding trees, and makes the colour of blossoms more vivid. Roads shimmer with silvery light, and grass comes to life with lush, bright-green enthusiasm.

As we continue to drive down I79 South, the misty rain softens the stark outlines of the trees and of the mountains that range as far as the eye can see. Near the horizon, they blend into ethereal nothingness.

There are more picture-postcard villages dotted along the highway, but the rain and the fog on the windows makes it impossible to take photographs. That’s the only thing I don’t like about the rain.

Amish country, PA.

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This is genuinely some of the prettiest countryside I have ever seen. It’s a patchwork of farms with deep green grass, yellow straw fields from the last crops of corn, white or red barns, and pretty houses.
The roads have a separate late each side for horses and buggies, or the alternative Amish transports of bicycles or push scooters. There are some scooters that are converted bicycles, with a platform to stand on between the wheels. We saw several of these, with an adult or teenager transporting a child who was standing in front of them.

We don’t see many mules in Australia, but they are commonplace here because they are the work animal of choice on the farms. Horses are reserved for transport.
We have seen families, individuals and courting couples all out for a ride on this beautiful, sunny Spring Saturday. A courting couple is distinctive because they must ride in an open and uncovered buggy.

Everything is clean and well presented. The whole scene is absolutely charming. I don’t say that to be condescending. It’s genuinely pretty, and it seems they take pride in making it so. It also seems to me that they have maintained a sweetness or pride in the fundamental things of life that our society often overlooks – family, friendship, hard work and moral values. There is no abuse of the environment here, nor any waste or litter.
There are things we could definitely learn from their way of life, even though I am not willing to give up using electricity, electronics, or my car.

Daffodils

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Daffodils are the most beautiful and joyful heralds of spring.

It’s no wonder Wordsworth wrote so enthusiastically about them “Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze” and “Tossing their heads in a sprightly dance”.

PS: this is the first time I have used someone else’s photo (thank you, Mr Google and Russell James Smith at https://www.flickr.com/photos/48889087714@N01/3360112806) but it’s hard to take photos of daffodils when riding in an RV.

Middle of nowhere.

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The brainPod is playing George Strait’s “Middle of Nowhere” on a loop as we head to the Deer Park KOA near Cuddebackville in the Hudson River valley, NY.

If you want to get away from it all, this seems like the place to do it. The campground is nestled inside a gully out in the middle of nowhere, so even your phone and it’s associated internet capabilities can take a well-earned rest… unless, of course, you actually want to chat to friends or update your travel blog so that all of your adoring fans know you are still alive. (I am!)  In that case, you are likely to be frustrated. (I am!) 
Sigh. 

The facilities are all clean, and there is hot water in the showers. The joy of a hot shower at the end of a long day of travelling is hard to express adequately, or at least without moaning with pleasure.

A shot of the maple whiskey my friend Sean gave me in dry ginger ale finishes the day very, very nicely. I confess, there were one or two moans of pleasure associated with that, too.

Morning reveals just how very pretty it is here. It’s early spring so there are no leaves on the trees, but lots of leaves from autumn still lie all over the ground. Little flurries of wind chase the leaves in a silly frolic that deposits them under trees until the next burst of wind comes along and continues the game. 
There are squirrels running around, but they are shy and won’t let me take their picture. 

The laundry is done, we’ve had coffee and a maple oatmeal cookie, and we’re off again.

Snowing #2.

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It’s snowing in Montpelier, VT, this morning.
This gentle, whimsical snow is so pretty.
Lazy flakes of snow settle on my clothing and skin, but there is not enough to settle on the ground.
Perhaps this is Vermont’s way of apologising to me for yesterday’s misery.

Cold morning.

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Steady, soaking, cold rain. 
It takes its coldness from the ice.
That chill is unmistakeable. Inescapable. It burns.
It’s hard to breathe.
I suppose I was a fool to not expect that.
And so the rain continues: I wonder if it will ever stop.
What started as a surprise downpour has become an all-pervading bleakness that feels like it will never end. 
I long for the sunshine; I long for its kiss, the warmth of its touch on my skin, its heat radiating into my soul. 
But it has departed and all that remains is the misery of winter.

I am heading for warmer weather, but part of me will remain frozen in this moment.

I don’t believe that I can ever be the same again.