I found myself leaving the west coast once again. Traveling from southern Oregon to Washington Island Wisconsin is no short trip. With over two-thousand miles to drive, and the entirety of my possessions in the back of my truck I set out. Quickly my thoughts committed to the endeavor and the ambition to seek out the unfamiliar. Feelings of excitement percolated as my home state’s border approached and then receded from sight. Adventure was on the horizon.
Idaho: excitement was discovered in the valleys and peaks of the Sawtooth wilderness.
Wyoming: I was overcome by majesty and amazement in the Grand Tetons. One can not feel powerful next to such titans. One can only be.
As the visual wonders wound down, reflections of the observed spectacles permeated my mind. Endless painted hills conscripted to life in vivid tones of blood red, forest green, sun yellow, and muddy royal purple. Pitch black butte silhouettes on a horizon backdrop cast aflame by radiant sunset. Colossal evergreen groves to vast plateaus of Sagebrush. In those moments, in those places, I couldn’t help but feel as though every detail, every shred of color, and every faint whisper was there just for me. Despite many days of travel into unknown lands, one unmistakable feeling never left me.
I was Home.As I arrived on the island for my second year, that feel met me again. It is fueled by the journey that lead me here. As I prepare my kitchen for the season ahead I feel engaged by the potential of the unknown, excitement for the possibilities that it may bring, and a vast appreciation for the world around me.
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