Shakin' the dust off

Florence Oregon lighthouse (courtesy shutterstock)

The eclipse trip Big Ag and I took recently was good in many ways, but one of the biggest reasons is that it shook the dust off me. When you are comfortable and happy in your routines, it's easy for them to become a rut, and taking a trip of any length (farther than the grocery store, anyway) enlarges your perspective again to where you not only appreciate where you've traveled to, but you also appreciate home more, once you get back.

In short, sometimes you have to be someplace else in order to re-learn how to be here. "Here" as in the present, wherever that takes place.

When I was in my 20's, I was seized with a chronic restlessness that caused me to travel all the time. I backpacked through Europe for months. I traveled cross country for several weeks on an Amtrak pass, did 10 day back country trips up Mt. Whitney and the high Sierras. If bigger trips failed to materialize I got in my car, alone, and drove to Santa Barbara, Joshua Tree, or Palm Springs for the weekend. 

In truth, I was driven to travel because I lived in shitty places I usually could not wait to get away from, in that grand wasteland known as 1980's Los Angeles.

Of course I could not wait to get away from my dingy apartment, with the view of the parking lot and the neighbors with the loud television. When we're young we may not know much, but we recognize when we're in a place we need to escape from.

But the thing about growing up is that eventually, you hopefully become successful and end up living in a home and a place you love -- one the younger you would have loved to vacation in. Big soaking tub? Check. Marvelous view? Check. Pretty bathroom, sans mold and cockroaches? Double check. And so you stay put more. You put down roots because you're finally in good soil. But like any house plant, it's possible to get root bound and dusty and need to be freed from your pot and shaken up a bit once in awhile.

This trip to see the eclipse and the Oregon coast reminded me that yes, I do live in paradise compared to where I came from. But there are other paradises that need to be explored, too. The Oregon paradise we drove through had pine forests, lighthouses, wide open beaches and random beach towns with great breweries. And I remembered that paradise is found all over the planet, if we're willing to travel to meet it where it lives. 

And sure enough, I returned from our vacation calmer, more in the moment, and happier. Sometimes you just need to shake the dust loose and move around a bit to realize that deep roots are advantageous in some ways, yes, but not if they make you incapable of being anyplace else.

O Pioneers!

In the midst of packing and re-packing as we get ready to head to the Great Northwest for a little vacation and retirement home prospecting. Even with a full-time housesitter, there is a great deal that needs to get done around the homestead before we go, although having a housesitter helps immensely with not becoming overwhelmed with stress. Knowing that someone we know well will be actually living in our house while we're away helps with that a lot. Forget the neighbor checking in twice daily. Move someone in for the length of your vakay, I say.

Will we hate Spokane/Coeur D'Alene? Love it? Never want to come back here? I guess we'll find out. We are actually looking at retiring there in several more years (no worries residents, we are not coming to take your jobs). Most appealing to us is cost of living, followed by weather, followed by living in a place that actually has enough water. I can imagine the charm of  living in a place where enough wet stuff falls from the sky that one does not have to worry about the ol' well running dry on a year-to-year basis.

I come from a migrating tribe of people -- my family's personal story, told by our DNA and family history, takes us out of the Middle East during the Jewish diaspora, to the Mediterranean, then England, then the Eastern US, then to California. Looking over the horizon to new land is in my blood. I truly believe it is either in your DNA to be a pioneer or it isn't (and no judgement either way). You're either born with the migrating gene or not. 

But as we draw closer to the end of our careers, we ponder where we can best afford to have the quality of life we want, and where there are amenities close by that we will need or just want to have. Spokane is on the short list, and so out we go to case the promised land.

I'll take lots of pics and report in once we're home.

Off-farm Day

In order to keep your sanity in rural life, I think everyone needs a few off-farm days a month.  Not too many, heaven knows this lifestyle requires we be on-site to water crops and tend to animals pretty regularly, but the occasional vacation, weekend trip, or just a day away is important.  You need to realize your farm is not the center of the universe, and mingle and mix with all sorts of different types of people.

That's because rural life can be isolating, and if the only voices you hear are the ones from television or the ones you read on the internet, and the only sights you see are the ones within a few miles of home, it seems like your perspective on life and other people will grow smaller as well.  Sure, living in the country brings you peace and quiet, but I'm convinced there are times you need to get out there and see how the rest of the world is doing.

Yesterday Big Ag and I did a road trip to the coast (about 20 minutes west of us, as the crow flies) and took a four mile hike along the headlands.

It certainly puts things into perspective, walking along the edge of the continent, along the ocean which was here before you showed up and will be here long after you're gone.  

The four-mile hike worked up an appetite, plus it was kind of chilly up on the headlands, so we stopped at our favorite beach hang-out and ate outdoors, in the warm sunshine.  If there is not a place in Heaven that looks kind of like this one, I am not sure I want to go lol.

And, as if my Gardenburger and fries were not enough to replace the calories we'd burned hiking, our next stop was for pie.

Mmmm.  Pie. Perspective restored. Back to farm life.