Journey To The Center  

How to begin? I’m guessing that just about anyone reading these lines will have arrived via my old nature blog, Burning Silo. If so, you will also know that I decided to start up this new blog to document a journey — one that is taking place after the recent death of my husband, Don. It’s a journey with a vague starting point. Does it begin now, or a month ago with Don’s death, or did it begin several months ago as he and I whiled away time, dreaming and planning our next trip — a long one that might last months or even years? Perhaps all are true.

Above is a photo of three books that are packed in my van alongside nature field guides, blank notebooks and journals. The road atlas is self-explanatory, but what about the other two? A couple of years ago, I first read Jill Frayne’s Starting out in the Afternoon, a book about her own midlife journey across Canada after the break-up of her marriage. In the process of traveling, she gradually finds herself most at ease in nature. While sorting out which field guides I would be bringing along, my eyes fell upon this book. I picked it off the shelf flipping through to read a page or two. Her description of having to drive for three days to get out of Ontario made me smile. Also, her descriptions of geology and how place resonates on our spirit, made me wish to read the book again, this time while I was starting out on a trip in the afternoon of my own life.

The other book, John Steinbeck’s Travels with Charlie, was an unexpected addition, suggested by a friend who, upon hearing that I would be traveling with Sabrina, asked if I had ever read of Steinbeck’s travels with his dog. I had not. In short order, the book and an attached note appeared in the mailbox at the end of my lane. I’ll read it while traveling in many of the same places that Steinbeck wrote about in 1960. Of course, Steinbeck was traveling in a custom truck camper, while Sabrina and I will be making our journey in my small van packed with camping gear, art supplies, books, and a bed built with the help of my friend, Paul, who came to give me some help with things after Don’s passing.

It’s not easy leaving the place that has been my home for thirty years. Some might wonder why I would do so, and especially at this time. However, I feel this is just the right time to be leaving. I know that Don would be happy to see me “on the road”, especially as this is the trip we intended to make together – the three of us. In fact, in a manner of speaking, he will be along with us as I’ve brought his ashes with me — as part of a promise that I made to him in the last days of his life. The final thing I packed before driving out the lane was a vase of flowers picked from those still blooming in our garden. They represent the spirit of our home, a house surrounded by gardens and fields of wild flowers.