Then we came to the end

I awoke in the treehouse this morning, and lie in bed, imagining that if I stayed inert, I could make my vacation last just a few moments longer.  The roosters started their crowing outside, and knowing I had many hours of road time ahead of me and the threat of holiday traffic looming if I waited too long, I put my feet on the floor, turned the coffee pot on, took a shower and packed my things.

After I got dressed, I took my coffee out to the treehouse porch and read a few Wendell Berry poems.  The rooster crowing gave way to the rap of woodpeckers.  A couple of squirrels jumped from branch to branch in a nearby tree, dropping acorns onto the wooden deck with a loud plunk.  The spider web was gone, by her own undoing or swept away by another guest since I last stayed here, I do not know.

I said goodbye to the treehouse, the mountains, the farmland, the days of no alarm clocks and optional showers, and hit the road for the last leg of my journey.

I finished listening to Flight Behavior and teared up at the end when the main character comes to terms with a truth about herself and makes a decision to say goodbye to someone she loves.

I stopped in Bethlehem, PA in hopes of finding good food, but had to settle for an unsatisfying veggie omelet at an unremarkable diner.

I replayed some Edward Sharpe tunes, recalling that happy night in Louisville.  I arrived at home, unpacked my things, smiling at each new keepsake and remembering that moment, that place.

It was a trip of a lifetime, and I thank everyone who followed me on this journey.  It certainly made the time less lonely to know you all were reading.  But I do hope that I've inspired at least of few of you to take a solo journey of your own.  It's an incredible way to get to know yourself, and really see and interact with the world, without distraction.

Here are a few highlights and trip stats:

Miles traveled: 2766
Number of states passed through: 11 (Indiana by accident)
Number of parking tickets, speeding tickets, flat tires: 0
Number of times I nearly peed my pants between gas stations: innumerable

Number of times I cried: 4
Number of times I felt joy: daily

Best cup of coffee: the treehouse in Virginia
Best meal: Hammerhead's in Louisville
Best bookstore: Malaprop's in Asheville
Best music: Asheville

Biggest splurge: Shoji Spa package in Asheville
Best deal: $5 Lifetime membership to Bywater in Asheville

Prettiest place: Catawba Falls in Asheville & New River Gorge in West Virginia
Prettiest people: Louisville

Nicest park: Cherokee Park in Louisville
Nicest people: Everywhere

There's a Jiffy Lube sticker in my car that says "I have chosen to return at 52,885 miles" to remind me when Ingrid needs to be serviced.  I wish someone would put a sticker on me that tells me when I will return to these places so that I can look forward to that date.  Regardless, I know I'll be back.

I go among trees and sit still

I do admit: I cried a little bit when I turned the lock on the door of my mountain studio this morning, packed up my car, and drove away from Asheville.  While I'm feeling completely spoiled and grateful that I got to enjoy an 11 day vacation, I am greedy for more time in these places.  This trip was a bit like speed dating 5 different cities, and I want to go out on a second date with all of them.

Wanting to take my leaving slow, I opted to drive north on the Blue Ridge Parkway for a bit rather than the interstate out of Asheville.  I drove for 200 miles on the parkway at 45mph, through fog and sun and torrential rain.  And it was sublime.  Driving that road is like a meditation, a mesmerizing journey through verdant green mountains.  I listened to bluegrass hymns and Barbara Kingsolver's captivating audiobook Flight Behavior, with the windows rolled down and butterflies and birds flitting all around me, and those hours were the best kind of Sunday morning worship I know.

Ingrid loves the Blue Ridge Parkway!

I stopped in at the Blue Ridge Music Center along the way for "Midday Music", a daily afternoon jam for traditional Appalachian Music.  (Mom and Aunts Linda, Becky, Naomi, and Jody, you know this one!)

My meandering route along the Blue Ridge Parkway stretched my travel time to nearly 11 hours, so I arrived wearily back at the treehouse in Virginia, where I spent the first night of my trip.  It is the coziest place, sweet refuge for a tired traveler, and I want to stay in it forever.

I've settled in for the night with my newly purchased Wendell Berry poetry collection and a glass of wine.

Here's a selection that seems apt, on this Labor Day eve:

I go among trees and sit still.
All my stirring becomes quiet
around me like circles on water.
My tasks lie in their places
Where I left them, asleep like cattle.

Then what is afraid of me comes
and lives awhile in my sight.
What it fears in me leaves me,
and the fear of me leaves it.
It sings, and I hear its song.

Then what I am afraid of comes.
I live for a while in its sight.
What I fear in it leaves it,
and the fear of it leaves me.
It sings and I hear its song.

After days of labor,
mute in my consternations,
I hear my song at last,
and I sing it. As we sing,
the day turns, the trees move.

Over 2200 miles behind me, and about 400 to go tomorrow.  One last Shenandoah sunset.