And where am I going?

The last of running waters. They say winter will be here tonight. The water and I await… this inevitable change.


Leaving what I love.

Driving home.  Headlights in the snow.  Owl and elk, coyote tracks and a snowshoe hare.  Only a dusting.  Perhaps it will be gone tomorrow.

We leave town.  Down past Airport Corner.  I will see no vehicle from here on up to home.  Even Freemon’s Ranch is still and silent for the season.

As if eyes almost closed.  We squint through snow shooting towards the windshield, whipping up and over at just the last minute.  A blinding tunnel vision.

It will not last.  We know.  By the time we reach the Reservoir, the sky is an even white, like a bed sheet draped over my head, tucking me in for the season.

This year is different. Every year is.  I cling to the early winter because it is all I have now.  Mid winter will take us south.  Far south.  South of the Equator.  South America.  Where the sun will shine north of us.

I never thought we would be “Endless Summer” season travelers when Winter is what we’ve lived for.  But who can resist an adventure?  And a big one lies ahead.  I can not say no.  We will go.  Four months in Patagonia.  It is summer there.  We will leave deep winter, dressed in long johns and parkas and heavy boots and riding on the back of my husband’s snowmobile with our dog balanced between us.   Somewhere on the drive to the airport perhaps we’ll slowly strip.  Leave the layers behind.  Go lightweight. Hawaiian shirts and flip flops.  Not really my style.  I think I’ll keep the Levi’s and cowboy boots and sweat it out if need be.

I will say farewell to my mountain for winter.  Close up our home, farm out the house plants, dig my nose deep into the hair of my horses as we bring them to lower ground.  One last whiff of their sweet smell, each one of which I am so familiar I could identify him or her blindfolded by scent alone.

And the twist to this story:  it’s all for the sake of writing.  Part of becoming a writer, or rather, expanding, evolving…  A chance to complete another story.  A good one at that.  I’ll save the details for another time.

There’s more to it than that.  There always is to every tale, isn’t there?  And this one won’t end otherwise.  In this case, there is, “For the sake of adventure.”

Because life is too short for Woulda, Coulda and Shoulda.  I’d rather stick with, “Sure, I’ll give it a try.”


Water and light. Perhaps for the last time this season.

13 thoughts on “And where am I going?

    • Pretty exciting, though still two months before we go. Which is good. Lots to do to take care of business here in our absence, and get ready for being there. Really appreciate your enthusiasm and interest, Monte. Thank you.

  1. I am in two minds about recommending Bruce Chatwin’s classic “In Patagonia” to you as the jury is still out as regards whether I feel it merits being placed up there with other classics… Happen to be reading it at the moment.

    Are you familiar with that book, Gin?

    • I am not familiar with the book, Pia. Please let me know your opinion when youre through. Another friend just send a whole list of books on or in the area. I’m loading up my Kindle. Thank goodness for that. Packing four months of books would be HEAVY otherwise!

  2. I’m so excited about your new adventure. I’ve never been to South America, and I know what you mean about the story. When you have to write, you have to write. What about your horses?

    • I’ve never been there either, Sunny. It will be a new adventure and I’ll look forward to sharing with you. As for the horses… no doubt that’s a difficult thing. I hate leaving them. They have a good home down in the valley below our mountain, and will be in good in hands. And fortunately, where we are going there will be new horses to get to know and love. In the meannwhile, I’m so enjoying every minute I can with my eight. All day today, they followed me around as I picked up and tucked things away getting ready for the big storm that’s due to roll in tonight.

  3. Safe journey Gin … I know how hard it would be not to have a winter when you live for that. I’d keep the thermals as I understand it gets pretty cold at night in the higher altitudes. But probably not as cold as you would like it to be.

    • Thank you, Alien. Hopefully winter will come tonight. That’s the forecast. Two feet of snow and temps down to zero (f). I intend to love every minute of it, and burn all the wood I want before we go. Yes, I will savor all of it. But I am just so excited, leaving this for that in this case… I’m pretty sure is worth it for a little while at least. Nothing permanent… yet.

    • You’re not rid of me quite yet, Julian. We’re not leaving until early January. Lots to do before we go. Including having Forrest home for Christmas. We will catch up before, and keep in touch even when I’m there… and yes… there, enjoying the warmth and light…

  4. I sensed too much of the immediate in your mail, Gin. I read so much passion and assumed…..well, let’s say that I wished the best for you, including a swift passage to whatever ground will nurture your love and talent. Whenever you travel, I wish these things for you, and more.

    The cold provides a blank canvas. It is clean – just as T E Lawrence said of the desert. Temperature is relative. You’ll find a canvas elsewhere too, big and fresh and free from the taint of ‘civilisation’, which begs to draw you into a dull life of ease. But your voice is not so easy to snuff out. I look forward to hearing more from you. Well, actually I’ll be thrilled when you call to catch up. You’re like a dose of true authentic reality.

  5. Ah, yes. Here’s the announcement. I have wondered if you plan to continue your blog while in Patagonia. I understand there will be periods of connection for your computer.

    This is sooooo exciting. I found the hardest part of any adventure is the planning and disseminating of all matters.

    This truly is full of wonder!

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