River Stone Ranch

Home isn’t where you’re from, it’s where you find light when all grows dark.
-– Pierce Brown

The Ranch House at River Stone Ranch

October 13:  After spending almost three weeks in Cynthia and Rey’s guest house, I moved into the Ranch House at River Stone Ranch on Labor Day. It is just half a mile from Cynthia and Rey.  Having spent the past two-and-a-half months on the road, I am more than ready to find a place that feels like home.

River Stone Ranch is on County Road 250 about 10 miles north of Durango — a beautiful property of about three acres with an abundance of tall trees. You feel like you’re deep in the mountains when you drive down CR 250, surrounded by trees, with red cliffs on one side and the Animus River on the other, and in the distance the San Juan Mountains which are snow- capped much of the year.    Continue reading “River Stone Ranch”

RememberingTaos

In life, a person will come and go from many homes. We may leave a house, a town, a room, but that does not mean those places leave us. Once entered, we never entirely depart the homes we make for ourselves in the world.
― Ari Berk

I lived here, in Taos, New Mexico, for four years.

There was little time for reflection, when I sold my house in Taos at the end of May 2019.  I was scrambling to do all the things you need to do to close on a sale.  The closing was on May 30; ib June 1 I left on my road trip to the East Coast.  So now, some four months after I left Taos, I’ve had a some time to reflect. Continue reading “RememberingTaos”

The Mountains Are Calling . . .

The mountains are calling and I must go.
—  John Muir  (paraphrasing)

The Red Cliffs of Durango

Sunday, August 15.  My road trip to the East Coast is over, and I’ve returned to the West, to the mountains and red cliffs of Durango.

Cynthia invited me to spend the rest of August in her guest cabin where I’ve spent many happy days over the past three years.  I accepted her invitation before she could get all the words out of her mouth.

I couldn’t have landed here at a better time.  Sunny days with temps in the low-mid 80s . . . nights in high 50s . . . low humidity (today it is 14%) . . . and just enough breeze to move the air around a bit. I’ve been hearing about the heat wave and storms passing through places I’ve just driven through — Kansas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Tennessee, North Carolina — and I feel lucky to be here in this beautiful place.

Cynthia and Rey’s House in Durango

Continue reading “The Mountains Are Calling . . .”

Livin’ on Tulsa Time, Part 2

Well, you know I’ve been through it
When I set my watch back to it
Livin’ on Tulsa time

— Daniel Flowers

August 7:  After my nearly 7,000-mile road trip, I arrived back in Tulsa late Saturday afternoon after being caught in a rain storm near Sallisaw.  It was the only really bad weather I’ve had on the trip — and it wasn’t all that bad.

So now I’m back at Marlon and Jeri’s, where I always feel at home. They are fun and welcoming and their home is beautiful and filled with love. Annie can run free in the backyard, though she tends to stay close to me, and I don’t have to think about packing and loading the car for a few more days.

And Annie has a playmate:

Annie and her playmate Marlon

Marlon and I met Derek, Kelly and kids at Yokozuna for dinner on Saturday night. I had the same excellent grilled salmon as last time and a bite of Marlon’s Hot Mess sushi — and a got the same fortune cookie message  “Eat more, you’ll be harder to kidnap.”

Continue reading “Livin’ on Tulsa Time, Part 2”

The Berkshires

The bloom of these mountains is beyond expression delightful.
— Herman Melville, describing summer in The Berkshires

The Berkshires really are delightful. The hillsides and mountains are covered with trees so thick they look like a solid mass from a distance, and roads are lined and often canopied with trees more than a hundred feet tall. All that green makes everything look cooler than it really is.

Before I arrived here five days ago, I had only a vague concept of The Berkshires.  For some reason I had them in New York instead of Massachusetts. (I know, my geography sucks.)  Which is why I offer this map.

Each village or town has its own center and its own charm.

Continue reading “The Berkshires”

I Saw a Camel in Vermont . . .

Sometimes life drops blessings in your lap without your lifting a finger. Serendipity, they call it.
— Charlton Heston

On my last day in Vermont, I decided to drive to Middlebury, about an hour south of Burlington, to see Middlebury College where Judit’s daughter graduated, and soak up some more Vermont scenery before I left the state.

A few miles north of Ferrisburgh I happened to glance to my right and that’s when I saw her.

A Camel in Vermont

My immediate reaction was, What a strange humpback cow. I kept on driving and my mind kept on whispering, It’s a camel, It’s a camel, It’s a camel.

I had to find out.

I made a U turn and drove back to where I had seen the humpback cow and parked across the road.

It was definitely a camel. Continue reading “I Saw a Camel in Vermont . . .”

Dining in Burlington

People who love to eat are always the best people.
– Julia Child

Then I must be one of the “best people” because I love to eat!

One of the pleasures of a new city is discovering its restaurants.  With Annie on a summer road trip I’m limited to those with patios that allow dogs, but a surprising number of them do, especially at Burlington’s Church Street Marketplace — four blocks of a pedestrian-only open mall lined with shops and restaurants, in downtown Burlington.

CHURCH STREET MARKETPLACE

On my first day in Burlington I had fish and chips at Sweetwater’s in the Marketplace. The cod was fresh and the chips were crisp and Annie was on her mat at my feet.  What more could I ask?

SWEETWATER’S BISTRO

Continue reading “Dining in Burlington”

Burlington, You Had Me At Hello

You had me at “hello.”
— Dorothy to Jerry, in the film Jerry McGuire

When I walked into my hotel room in Burlington and saw this view, I fell in love.

VIEW OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN FROM MY ROOM AT THE HILTON HOTEL

The Hilton Hotel on Battery Street runs along the Waterfront on Lake Champlain.  I had thought the Lake was one the Five Great Lakes. Silly me.  Lake Champlain — or Lake Champagne, as the hotel telephone operator called it — is a long narrow lake separating Vermont from New York State.  Look across the Lake and you see the Adirondack Mountains of New York.

Sunsets in Vermont

In the evenings I usually sat with a glass of wine in my hand and Annie on my lap and watched the sun set over the Lake.  Sometimes, the sunsets rivaled those in Taos

SUNSET ON JUNE 30

Continue reading “Burlington, You Had Me At Hello”

Eastern Shore: Great Expectations

Expectations were like fine pottery. The harder you held them, the more likely they were to crack.
— Brandon Sanderson, The Way of Kings

I had great expectations for the Eastern Shore.

I had heard about the charm of St. Michaels, the sophistication of Easton, the crab cakes, the seafood, the general laid-back atmosphere. I kept hearing, It’s not like any place you’ve ever been.

I was almost ready to move there, sight unseen. One of the biggest attractions of the East Coast, for me, is the concentration of interesting and scenic and historical places. In the West you have also have interesting and scenic and historical places, but they’re so spread out.  You can drive for hours and hours, sometimes for days, to get from one place to the other.

But if I lived in, say, Maryland, I could take a day trip to Washington DC or spend the weekend in Boston or Manhattan. I could drive to New England in the fall or down to Miami in the winter. And being a mere 25 feet above sea level, the area more than met my low-elevation requirement.

But the Eastern Shore and I got off on the wrong foot from the get-go. Continue reading “Eastern Shore: Great Expectations”