Out the front window, the first round of blooms on the
rhododendron are already fading. Iris blossoms hang wilted. The harbingers of
spring.  The sky has been a high-blue for
days. The maple leaves flicker in the chill- 
breeze. For the most part, it does not reach the rocker on the porch.
When it pauses, the air warms quickly, heating the deck boards, my joints
welcoming the reflected heat, my eyes grow heavy until the air cools and stirs
again.

I’m ready to travel, someplace. The urge is like being
hungry but not knowing what I can eat. I’ve been reviewing maps thinking a road
trip might be in order. Some place new for us to see, though that seems a minor
concern. What I need is the movement. I’ve been home bound too long and it’s
time to wander. The sun and wind say it is so.

In 1877 Chief Joseph, leader of the Nez Perce led a band of
nearly 1000 members of his tribe, out of the Wallowa Valley, east attempting to
avoid a forced resettlement. For 126 days, pursued by the 7^th
Infantry and Cavalry, the Nez Perce trekked east through Idaho, Yellowstone
Park, and Montana, finally surrendering some 40 miles south of the Canadian
border. A daring attempt to preserve their way of life. My thought is to retrace
much of that trail.

My Park Service map covers the whole dining-room table.
I’ve laid out a legal pad and calendar. I’m not ready to lay plans, but rather,
I want to consider the trail as a whole. I’ll let the map sit there for a few
days and see what reveals itself. What catches my eye, in a kind of tactical
osmosis. Then I’ll start the planning.

The sky has begun to fill with clouds and the breeze has
turned to a cold wind. I’ll turn on the fireplace and get my book.

Blessings

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