The landscape is nice, driveways are paved, and spaces are level, but I still prefer a natural campsite over an RV Resort. Picture rows of RV’s spaced about 15 feet apart, each one setup exactly how the resort likes it.  No RV’s older than 15 allowed, even though you may have restored it to showcase quality. Pages of regulations are handed to you as you check-in reminding you not to have things stored outside and no more than four single pots of live plants.


When sitting on the patio our chairs have a view of the neighbors utilities – poop coaster and all. Every word said can be heard if the listener cared to eavesdrop, even from inside the motor home. And the lawn mowers.  The never ending sounds of lawn mowers!

Since I live a creative life (or try to), location is very important to me. Creative output requires at least equal amounts of input.  Sitting inside the RV all day writing has constant familiar scenery, the same walks around the park, the same everything.  I know, beauty can be found in every little thing, but after a few days inside, the creative parts of my brain begin to wither. It seeks stimulation.  First comes eating the wrong things. Next comes writers block.

I am just a nature flanerie – one who loves to stroll about and contemplate the universe. But the scenery needs to change often. My senses need to be excited in order to allow creative input.

Two months seems to be the point at which internal turmoil begins to stir.  When we land someplace, it is fresh and wonderful.  Then it begins to fade as things become too familiar.  We are not the type of people who want to buy a house, get a dog, and join the local whatever.  While civic duty is important to us, we find other ways to participate. We have virtual roots that can reach around the globe.

I have found evidence of this wanderlust in the joy I find plotting out our next journey.  Driving across country is always a favorite, but not practical during the pandemic. For travel we have devised a set of rules for social distancing and consider our RV a much safer place to shelter in place no matter where that place may be.  I will post another article about that soon.

For me, I find more enjoyment in planning something in the future instead of living off of memories. Even the smallest of trips bring me joy. In my memories of childhood, joyful times were those where we were planning a trip to the state fair, to the beach, or to my grandparents cabin in the Ozarks. The anticipation and sleeplessness is what I remember, not necessarily the experience I had once I got there.

As life gets too complacent, I know it’s time to move on.  Maybe to seek more creative input. Maybe to experience the thrill of something new. For whatever reason, at my age, I know this is the way it is, and with wisdom I know there is no reason to fight it.

As Dr. Seuss wrote, “Oh, the places you’ll go!”