Two Saturdays ago, we tumbled out of our dark cabin and drove to the airport, all nine of us with eighteen pieces of luggage and enough beef jerky and other snacks of perchance to bribe even the most agitated of small children.Twelve hours later we had met up with our eldest son who had flown in from Georgia and we were coasting in our dual mini vans through the rolling hills of southeast Indiana. After filling three large carts of what we hoped would feed us for a week (it didn’t), grabbing the last burgers from Five Guys before they locked the doors for closing time (which tasted way better than dried and wrapped meat sticks), and driving back to the airport to pick up grandparents, we cruised another hour or so (who’s counting at this point) down unmarked and winding narrow roads to our AirBnB tucked within the woods. We stumbled out of the vans, briefly hugged our eldest daughter who had just driven up with her family from Texas, and loaded up the groceries into the kitchen and somehow found toothbrushes and bedrooms.
Upstairs, I briefly greeted the firefly climbing upon the window screen, its wee light a beacon for my inspection, and fell into bed.
I’m certain the walls reverberated with all of the snoring that night.
We spent the next day exploring our rental and surroundings, figuring out baby gates for the wee ones and assigning kitchen duties for the week. I was delighted to sit on the deck overseeing the deciduous trees, my bare feet and arms soothed with muggy breezes. And the sounds! Cicadas, and trees dropping their fruit pink plunk plunk to the creek below. Eastern redbud and sycamore and beech with flycatchers and woodpeckers and chickadees (don’t you love those indentification apps?). The Carolina wrens were my favorites, their plump little bodies sending quick notes echoing throughout the woodland.
And the plants! Butterfly weed, its orange so lovely dotting the roadsides amongst strands of periwinkle colored chicory. I had the pleasure of meeting boneset in its natural surroundings, and pokeweed as well. Pokeweed has long been a friend of mine, as homeopathic phytolacca, knocking back mastitis whenever it threatened to take advantage while I was nursing wee babes.
The deer ticks I didn’t care for. Nor all of the corn. Actually, as I was strolling down the quiet country roads, my tee shirt readily absorbing moisture from the air, I pondered this monocropping and considered how, if instead there were rock walls dividing the graceful rolling hills and if those divisions had but a few dozen sheep within them, I might rightly be taking a walk in the English countryside. But, alas, the only four-legged mammal I came across was the badger skittishly crossing my path. Corn was the only cultivated crop I saw, already knee high and probably GMO, probably for the feedlots for the burger I ate the night before. Probably.
Meals were prepped and eaten, and then prepped again for the next day’s outing and adventures. We watched the Spellers documentary and played games and read books and watched Pop Pop draw cartoons. We ate our meals on the deck and delighted in the fireflies and watched waddling raccoons eyeing our scraps and bathed all of the little ones before bed. Tucked in, we were all rested and ready for the next day, for the entire reason why we had come so far.
Hi Kerimae, I always say that the best thing about traveling is getting back to your own bed and pillow. I am a homebody. Juneau is landlocked so getting out of here is not cheap. As is your little island. Can't drive down the road to see what that other town might have to offer in the way of shopping or restaurants. Or thrift stores. My favorite. My husband and son take a trip in the Fall to go deer hunting. I wait for a fun activity that my Colorado family is involved in and then I go to that. Usually once a year. I'll go there in August for my 66th birthday. When our kids were all still at home, we put our minivan on a Ferry from Juneau to Skagway and from there we hit the road. 4,000 miles later through parts of the Yukon and British Columbia we ended just north of Denver. A week to get there, 3 weeks there, and a week to get home. My husband, always looking to save a penny, turned off the breakers at our home to save on electricity since we would be gone for 5 weeks. It was a last minute decision and not one thought of after that last kid's seatbelt was buckled. The large chest freezer was full of fish and deer. Not a pretty fragrance to come home to. We live and learn. We did that Juneau to Denver trip one more time, but the second time we flew to Arizona and rented a van. On that trip we got to visit other family members there too. Less hours on the road was better. For years and years I had a terrible time trying to get my husband to think about more vacations. I finally realized that he lives in his favorite place on the planet and all of the things he loves to do are here. People pay thousands to come visit our little city. Me, I'm a country girl. My bucket list consists of a trip to Nashville. I want to see the Grand Ole Opry all lit up for Christmas. That's all. Not Hawaii. Not Europe. Just Nashville. It will be epic.