Mark and I added up all
of the places we've lived for long enough that they felt like home a
few days ago. He came up with 22 and I came up with 11.
Which puts our current
move into perspective. Sure, I've lived on this farm longer than
anywhere else in my life (although it's only second on Mark's more
extensive list).
But the river of life
keeps flowing on by, and sometimes you have to jump in a kayak and let
it carry you for a spell before you make a new camp.
Which is a long way of
saying --- I'm both terrified and exhilerated by the idea of pulling up
roots and finding a new place to call home. And if this one doesn't
work out...well, then we'll just move on to my lucky 13 and to Mark's
home number 24. The only true regrets in life are opportunities
untested. Onward and upward!
Your photos speak of lush green forests, shaded paths and meandering waters.
I hope you'll find somewhere equally beautiful.