scars, stories, and escape

“I've decided I'm going to live this life for some time to come. The freedom and simple beauty is just too good to pass up.” 
― Christopher McCandless

I like to think that every one of us crazy, hungry, lonely, in-love, wonderful human beings has a case of wanderlust. You know, the kind of desire to truly experience this world and the desire to travel places that will etch the scars and laugh lines into our faces that we'll show our children someday. The tales will start out, "One time I went..." and then the stories of monkeys scampering into hotel rooms in India and catching sharks off the coast of Africa and sleeping under the stars in the Egyptian desert will spill out and I hope those children will be just as enamored as I was by my parents' stories.

Ever since I read the book (and watched the movie) a few days ago, I can't stop thinking about Christopher McCandless' experiences. I couldn't ever embark on a solo adventure into the wilderness--I love human interaction far too much--but it's still so very intriguing. Was he happy, though? Always being on the move? Somewhere I read a quote that people travel to escape reality. And you know, from my own experience, it's true. I so often feel the need to get away from it all, to cut ties and run free, but that's not realistic at all. Don't get me wrong, it's good--healthy, even--to get away now and then, but it's important to keep the wanderlust in check and remind ourselves of our vocations.

Still, I have a mad desire to collect stories and make my heart a hodgepodge of people loved and places visited. I don't think I'll ever get the need to travel, have adventures, and discover the true essence of each new place I visit out of my bones

part i: on the road

part ii: morning

part iii: water

Take me to where the waters run swift and emerald, where the road snakes gently under heavy-laden trees, and where the mornings are cool and misty. Let the campfire smoke embed itself in the fibers of my sweatshirt and let the wind ruffle the book leaves at the edge of the lapping water. Give me time to think and read and digest and watch; I am not shy but merely a curious observer. Let me forget everything for a moment and run away for a few short hours and I promise I will be alright.

it was friday so we visited the pumpkin patch

For years I've been fantasizing about visiting a pumpkin patch on a cloudy day, one with gourds and squash and pumpkins of all kinds growing on dark green vines spread thickly in all directions. They weren't on the vine, but nevertheless, yesterday's cloudy pumpkin patch visit satiated my craving, at least for now. The sweetest dogs trotted through the corn fields and walked along side us--Lilly was ready to bring one in particular home with her. And in addition to the standard orange ones, there were heirloom pumpkins ringed with the most delicate of colors and gourds striped green, yellow, and red; we ate one for dinner last night with tomato sauce, mushrooms, and bacon (it was delicious, in case you were wondering). It has been a strange fall thus far in many different ways, but a visit to the pumpkin patch can cure all sorts of autumnal blues.

Edit: Just a clarification--yes, I've definitely been to a pumpkin patch before, just not the exact one I've been dreaming about. :)