Our first week.
For those who are just joining our journey, this happened. And this. And then this.
The last one is still in the process of trying to kill me. It is too new, too raw to even really think about too deeply. Sicily and I walk around and go through the motions; sometimes we smile, sometimes we laugh.
Check the evidence, though. No real light in any of our eyes. No real bounce in our step. Dane used to comment on how both Sicily and I bounce when we are happy. We are missing the spring.
So what are two girls to do?
Take off. It is running with an aimless purpose. Meandering in a direction.
“All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost; the old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, a light from the shadows shall spring; renewed shall be blade that was broken, the crownless again shall be king.” JRR Tolkien
So we find ourselves starting a five-week journey to the north; this is where our family is. It is where my roots are, the people who have known me my whole life. This blog is for that journey, but it is also to make me write more; if I am honest with myself I will admit that I am a lazy writer, waiting for inspiration, which makes me a kindred spirit of many writers but ultimately also makes me colossally unproductive. I am going to require Sicily (herein referred to as La, The Child or just plain old Sicily) to write daily, so I might as well do it, too.
Our first stop, Redwing Farm in West Virginia, where we harvested kale and spent the afternoon talking about Luke's new meat CSA, coming soon to an office building in northern Virginia.
What I'm reading:
What I'm watching: