spools for thread

[Traverse City, MI]

rip. stretch, tug.  stretch.  a pool of string-- heaps.

lately, i've felt i could relate to unspooled thread.  pulled out and left in a pool... without a way to rewind into that place that felt like home.  jump, twist, tangle as i might...

  it won't be as neat as it once was.

the port of Traverse City met me with bitter winter gusts and a startlingly slower pace of life.  literature, yoga, coffee, Christmas prep, literature, family, sleep.  

we've come accustomed to a circus life.  don't let the fire scorch your throat or the elephant slip. balance, steady, flip.

the holidays can be disarming.  especially buying time in a strange town, waiting for loved ones to pause the bustle for that one to two moments each evening. and connect.  some say solitude is a blessing, this time around it was the source of much... anxiety?  no, antsy.  but make it a noun. 

on Christmas day we jumped on the freeway for North Carolina, our home but this time in a different home in the Blue Ridge.  somehow, even if it was just one evening, we were all in the same room complete with a fire, stockings, and a decorated tree. 

by the next morning we returned to our most common state of scatter... though, a couple of us did stay behind to take advantage of the day hikes and ski slopes nearby.  

after a week, i made my way back to Charlotte to ring in the New Year with a little bit of bluegrass and good friends... and to nurse a fractured wrist.  as it mends, i am home on the Outer Banks of North Carolina.  due to the injury, i'll be spending less time shooting for another week or so, but i do promise we'll be kicking again soonest.

in the mean time, Happy New Year!  this week marks the 1st year anniversary of The Consequence of Wander Lust.  thanks for the faithful following!