Westward

After a pleasant settled nine months, Pat and I are uprooting ourselves. It seems the whisper of movement, of adventures, is too loud for us to ignore. And so we politely excuse ourselves from jobs and rent payments, opting for a more nomadic lifestyle.

Our time in Asheville was productive and illuminating. We both found reasonable work in a town where jobs can be hard to come by, which was heartening. I got my massage therapy license and a taste of the profession; Pat worked in a hostel and worked out our traveling plans. We enjoyed swimming holes and farmer’s markets in the warm months, hiking and then hibernating as the weather turned cold. Our sweet little apartment afforded us many pleasant walks to downtown, and it was lovely to live across from Montford Park.

And while we were happy to have those stationary months, I for one am not quite ready to put down roots. When Pat stopped working at the hostel and my body started rebelling against the unforgiving spa schedule, we felt comfortable transitioning back to seasonal work, traveling where it suits us and learning new skills.

We’re driving west to Arivaca, a little town in Arizona near the Mexican border, with the intention of working on a homestead til spring comes. Pat’s worked there before; he tells me the work is comprised of landscaping, building, and gardening. Since Pat was there last, Kyle’s operations have expanded to include alpacas and three gardens, with plans for a fourth in the works. Much of the building will be with natural materials specific to the local landscape. The homestead is off-grid, a welcome respite from electronics and mindless computer time. I’m looking forward to walking the desert hills in our free time and acquainting myself with the plants and animals of the area, continuing my herbal studies and environmental awareness in every sense.

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