Perhaps this recent flurry of blog posts — three days in a row is highly unusual for me, eh? — can be attributed to the fact that part of us is reluctant to leave The Woods for The Big City. Our appreciation for this place is always present, but it feels stronger and more poignant now on the eve of departure.

We had originally planned to leave today, but when James found out that my first rehearsal on Monday in San Francisco is not until 7 p.m., we decided to wait until tomorrow morning.

This has given James more time to attend to the Airstream trailer, inside and out. He secured everything that we had brought into it yesterday in “travel mode”, hitched the trailer to our trusty red Chevy truck and towed it out of the barn this afternoon.

He washed the barn dust off and it looks much better. Now it is parked in front of the barn, hooked back up with electricity and water, and I’m writing this blog post in it as I did yesterday.

Home is wherever we have our computers, we’ve concluded with a laugh.

Earlier today, on this morning’s walk, we took yet another route. James has been wonderfully resourceful with suggestions lately!

We went up to the point which joins the main dirt road into town, but turned left instead of right, which we had done yesterday.

This takes us on a slight incline towards the postmaster’s house, but we before we reached his driveway, we turned left again on a little logging road heading back towards our place.

I brought my camera along again, but didn’t see any photo-ops until we reached this logging path.

There are two very large stumps on each side of the road at the top, where in olden times a large, heavy chain had stretched between the trees as a barrier. Here’s the stump on the left:

And here is the one on the right, with James extending the chain:

The chain “au naturel”:

Another old stump further down the hill:

James speculated that this tree must have been over two hundred years old when it was cut; maybe older. We fantasized that it had sprouted from the ground before the Mayflower landed at Plymouth Rock. It was probably cut in the early mine-dredging days in the mid-1800s.

This logging road leads back to the intersection where we usually turn off to walk by our nearest neighbors’ house. To the left are two discarded Franklin stoves, grown rusty with time:

In the exact middle of the intersection is this section of dredging pipe:

And to the right of this pipe is an assemblage of other mining debris:

We walked to the left, going slightly downhill, where the path leads into our driveway. I captured the tail-end of the Fall colors on a couple of trees:

I snapped a quick shot of James and Ringo, who had reached the end of the driveway near our place. (Ringo can barely be seen to James’ left.)

Cat Rupert was there to greet us when we arrived, as he’s done when we’ve returned from our past three walks.

Since we’ve been spending most of our time in the Airstream these past couple of days, Rupert doesn’t quite know what to make of our absence. He’s been staying in the Music Room alone for much of the day, except when I’ve been there to practice horn. James and I have continued to sleep in the Music Room, and will spend our final night there this evening.

My next post will be from the beach in Pacifica!

P.S. I’ve been having trouble formatting photos and text in posts lately; I create space between them in “visual” mode but they do not SAVE that way in the actual post. Everything gets crunched together. Do any of you have any suggestions? 🙂