Five a.m. is not an hour to find me awake. However, this morning, in the dark chill of the pre-dawn desert, I am finding the bees in my brain waking early to commence buzzing about the most recent events of my small life as well as the ones going forward
I turn on my furnace and slip back into my sleeping bag and face toward the picture-window of my windshield, fortunately positioned to frame the sunrise.
Most days the light comes as a simple slow motion of pale blue to tarnished brass to polished brass, and it’s up anatem, me hearties.
But this morning is a special treat. The ebony of the starry night cedes ever so gently to midnight blue and the horizon hints the night sky has begun its leave-taking. The black dilutes into blue that begins to define the edges of the jagged cinder-cone hills.
At the edge torn between the earth and sky, deep purple creeps onto the canvas. Before long pink and lavender streaks are airbrushed onto the scene and the tempo of the light show quickens.
The colors fold and stir into a finale that last several minutes. Then the gold comes tumbling in chasing the colors away. The light turns white, the sky, blue and the lamp of day is lit.
And I wonder what message was written in the morning light show.
I have been thinking about the mountain man I met on the road to town two days ago and my good fortune yesterday finding his simple camp in a dry wash. Look for his story in a future post.
Today is my eighth day at Trek Village. The population has dwindled to four coaches, a number that will be halved by sunset. I will leave today if only to drive a couple miles up the highway in search of another group.
A few days ago I joined the Escapees RV Club, tens of thousands of people who share the RV lifestyle. Do not yield to the temptation of concluding the SKPs are a homogenous, if slightly more social, group of the great community of active RVers. Many SKPs have clustered into one of the scores of sub-forums, a disparate constellation of affinities. There are Christian Fellowship groups, Diabetics on Wheels, barbershop harmonizers, nudists, atheists, lovers of Disney, geneologists, amateur radio operators, students of alternative medicine. quilters, cross-stitchers, singles, and a GLBT group. The group I will introduce myself to this day is the Boondockers, dry-campers, self-contained RVers who seek out spots with no hookups or services.
When I awarded myself a sabbatical from my conventional existence, I believed I was seeking a narrow, inward-looking year. However three months into my Year on the Road, I am daily discovering a patchwork quilt of rich fabrics stitched together into an ever more amazing tapestry.
I hope you are having as much fun as a passenger as I am as a wanderer.