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US 20 Journey 2010
Early morning fog hangs thick. Distant hills obliterated in a blanket of gray, nearby woods indistinct masses of form. Crows call from some distant somewhere, a wood thrush ee-ee-o-lays not far from back door.
Tomorrow I head out on the poetic road for a five-week journey, following US 20 to the Pacific coast. 22 days on America's longest road, then nearly two weeks working my way back east, back home. Sixteen readings scheduled throughout the journey. Old friends and new friends waiting to be met. Poems and pictures to share at programs, unknown experiences waiting to happen.
Spring is at its peak. Lush green lavishes the countryside, bird songs fill the air. Farm fields being prepared for planting, lilacs ready to bloom. There is a contagious vitalness and vibrancy permeating all of outdoors.
The season will move on without me here on Wheeler Hill. My experience will be moving down the road, witnessing spring in various landscapes as I head west. Ahead of me the Mississippi and Missouri, Niobrara and Willamette. Chicago, Dubuque, Casper, Boise. Sandhills, mountains, hot springs, ocean waves lapping at my feet.
Always a mingling of excitement and sadness before departing on my solo journeys. Anticipation of what lies ahead. Family, home, Wheeler Hill's seasonal changes left behind. Then, when journey at end, sadness of completion, excitement of return. I would not have it any other way.
vibrates notes through morning house
car ready to pack