We’re almost there… wherever there is.

Somewhere between lost and exploring.

Life is very different here than what I have known previously, but most likely that is predominantly in my head. Like many other things, or at least my perception of them. In the past six months, I have had a lot of time on my hands, much of which I initially spent exploring the hills and forests and canyons hereabouts. Often, when out on such adventures I would converse with the littledog, my trusty companion (the twirp, as I have taken to calling the second dog, is now a party to many of these explorations as well, though being a puppy, we have very different conversations). Anyway, on more than one occasion I would comment to her, “We’re almost there Little… wherever there is.”; not trying to be clever, for most of the time those efforts are lost on her, but… well, for no real reason I guess.

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Are we where yet?

Sometimes, I would have a general sense of where we were headed, at least as far as a map could tell, but really, when exploring a brand new landscape, you never really know quite where you are, except perhaps in relation to where you have just been, but most of the time we were not going that way. Rather, we were headed into the unknown, into that place full of exploration and always on the edge of possibly being lost. Well, I guess lost is not quite right; those who wander and all that. Either way, to proclaim that we were almost there, when I really had no good idea of where there was, is a fair bit short of prophetic; nor really quite hopeful, for that is not what I meant. I think, that what I was trying to impart, to myself, or to the universe, or possibly to Little, though I think most of the time she could have cared less, was that I would know we were there when we had arrived.

Of course, I would undertake similar wanderings back there away up north, but even though I probably could more easily have gotten lost in that much more wild landscape, I felt I knew the place better. Everything here is new, even when I walk the same trail over and over again. It is not a part of me yet, nor I a part of it.

Nights are warm and dark here. The land is dry and rocky, the air is thin, the grass is tall and waves on for miles. The trees are huge and towering or gnarled and foreign. The sun sets very fast and without hesitation. Life is very different here

 ~                  ~                  ~

A few nights ago, as has become my habit, I stepped out into the back yard to consider the evening before turning in. The moon, just past full, was rising. As it came up above the distant horizon, it ascended behind a low bank of clouds. It was as if it was the sun, setting upside down. It was bloated and orange and illuminating the sky and the tattered clouds around it and then it disappeared and the night fell to dusk and then to dark.

Life is very different here. But the more I realize that, the more I think that, wherever here is, I am almost there.

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The twirp contemplates the setting of the sun

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