Nesters

Before the hubby and I retired, I thought that I really wanted to have a travel trailer and just move around, place to place for weeks at a time. Never a fan of motels or hotels, we were always campers, owned various camping vehicles from pop-ups to a small motor home. We dragged our poor bored children around everywhere within our limited affordability. "Oh look...isn't that beautiful/amazing/cool?"  I have to admit that they all do appreciate nature and the outdoors.

As we began our adventures, dragging our long travel trailer from one new place to the next, it didn't take me all that long to realize...as much as I loved seeing the things that I'd never seen, visiting those interesting places, I wasn't ever going to be near the traveler that I dreamed I would be.  The truth is, I'm an incurable nester.  Whether it's a huge campground near the Grand Canyon or  a spot at the local lake, once I'm all set up and settled in, I don't want to leave.  I get all my little thingees squared away, set up the lawn chairs and I hate to tear it all apart and move along. And now that we don't have the kids, not even a sweet dog baby any longer, I've become a fan of motels.  Throw your suitcase in, turn on the AC and TV and you're set. 

So, these evolving times in our life have brought us to the lucky and happy situation of having a summer cabin in the Colorado cool and our home in Texas, splitting our time close to half and half. Guess what?  This old bird still doesn't like to leave either nest.  It's the end of the summer season here at the cabin, it's been a great and cool year. Family and friends and things we've lived with for years are calling us back home.  It's time to go home and yet...I'm having big separation pains.  Typically, I've feathered this small nest in the high country just to our liking. I'm feeling sad at the friends here we'll leave and all the little things...the birds that come to the water bowl on the porch, the rose that is flourishing on the corner of the house, the horses and antelope in the meadow, the mountains and the mornings and evenings that make you dig out your sweater.

Of course, I'll be so glad to see everyone and our Texas home. By Spring and the time to return, I'll be looking sadly at the nice St. Augustine yard and hesitating to leave there...it's the curse of the nester.  Birds migrate don't they? Should be a good thing but as I look at the little hummingbird at the window,  who seems to be wondering where the heck did that sweet stuff go, I feel a tug at my heart.

Sigh-h, another season ending, but always a hope for next year.