1886-1891

1886. the faint fragrance of dad's pipe wafting beneath my nose as we explore the wild highlands of scotland and ancient castles with their missing pieces, yet large chunks of stone remain

1887. the clouds that parted, pregnant with rain, ceasing their labor to give way to the sun, so that i might picnic below,  savoring my parisian finds as the eiffel tower stood magestic before me, allowing me to sit at her feet and enjoy her shade

1888. two wonderfully impactful books in 2 weeks. Re-Entry and 7.  Both speaking to me loudly and so time appropriately, perfect gifts from thoughtful ones not even knowing how much i would devour both and learn so. much.

1889. a tiny shepherd's cottage, tucked far back behind usual scottish civilization, green sticking to everything, the piles of moving wool and black eyes, 2 horses grazing near by-one white, one brown, all inviting to explore, smell, touch, and see. my favorites of all our air b n' b's. the shepherdess greeted us, tiny black bugs clinging to her shoulders, her hands strong and weathered from hard work on a farm, her face like softened leather, eyes wise and aged. she was kind and shared of the history and real pictures of shepherd and farming life. "it's a tooth and claw animal kingdom" she said solemnly.

1890. peace and laughter for the large percentage of our road trip. we all put forth effort to communicate and adapt to one another, flex in the opposite direction of our own wants. i am thankful and proud of all 7 of us. 

1891. after hours and hours of driving in the 9 passengar vehicle, the walls still seem to close in, and darkness falls, a hearty comadarie falls on us and slap happy humor comes out to play, and tongues start loosening, and you really get to know a person amidst smelly shoes, stale air, and siri's misread directions.