Well, it's June, and still—no word. With the northern border closed, our home away from home was still elusively out of reach. Fully vaccinated, the longing to see family face to face became overwhelming. Add that to 115° temps—it’s time to leave town.
Dave and I have a habit of squeezing the most activity into the smallest amount of time. Whirlwind was a nice name for it, whereas insane—seemed at times more appropriate. Phoenix, to northern Minnesota, to North Carolina, and back—in nine days—SPLENDID.
A snippet of Dave’s father’s artwork, painted on glass, which still adorns the workshop door.
A stop in Dave's hometown of Grand Rapids, MN, allowed us to spend some much-needed time with siblings and family. The boat ride on Vermilion lake gave Dave and me ample opportunity to dream about buying and building a home on one of its many islands. Pure fantasy.
Lake Vermilion island fantasy.
Enter North Carolina, the land of green and mountains. Not the rocky kind, mind you, but the hazy blue kind written about in songs.
Quintessential Blue Ridge.
We enjoyed lots of hugs and conversations with Dad and Nona, accompanied by a day trip up the Blue Ridge Parkway to Boone. Scenic splendor at every turn (of which there were many, btw).
Last but not least was our memorable visit with my brother Bob and Suzanne in Hillsborough, NC. It was there that Dave and I heard the sweetest sound—one that we had not experienced in over a year. RAIN, glorious rain—buckets upon buckets of it. A cure for our parched desert souls.
Backyard bloom and Bob and Suzanne’s.
We spent our last evening with Bob and Suzanne with their friends Luther and Karen. They often spoke of this couple and their beautiful patch of farmland just outside Hillsborough. Every creative cylinder ignited the moment I stepped out of the car.
Friendly pups at Karen and Luther’s.
Vast farmland with hand-built fences.
Luther designed and built this home. A white oak ceiling towered above the open space, as multiple windows provided light and expansive views of orchards and farmland—his labor of love.
View from the loft.
Oh, and it RAINED some more.
Enjoying rain with Luther and Karen. Photo courtesy of Bob.
That night I dreamt of folk music and persimmons.
Left: Mipso in the midst of producing a music video at Luther and Karen’s. Right: The bearing of fruit from their persimmon orchard. Photos courtesy of Luther.
The best description of our getaway was a canopy of green. Not a desert green—a Crayola green—the kind that's pure and simple. However, a desert's wide-open spaces can change one's perceptions. Finding sky through a mass of trees can at times seem claustrophobic.
I think Dave and I could get used to that.