It’s a hiatus from the norm, but it’s still living. There’s still cooking and cleaning, brushing teeth and doing laundry, making the bed and feeding the dog. We do all the same things (well, most of them) just a little differently. It’s a little like poetry.
How do I love and live in thee? Let me count the ways…
An ode to Rocinante, with apologies to Elizabeth Barrett Browning and her 43rd Sonnet
How do I love and live in thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height of thy area-rug-sized dimensions.
My soul is reached when peeing out of sight in the great outdoors; ideal cleanliness
achieved with spray bottle and pee cloth
(bucket for the rest).
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need for downtime; the simple immediacy of here and now, wishing for a bar or two of service - and yet not.
And by solar LED-light with 6 volt deep-cell battery backup, but darn that inverter-run fridge.
I love thee freely, as we strive for boondocking campsites and bikeable National Parks that welcome dogs.
I love thee purely as water from thy 13 gallon supply, stretching a shower’s use to quench a week.
I love thee with the passion put to fire
In our eco Solo Stove, and with my s’mores a-roasting, water on to boil, huevos rancheros on the Coleman in the morning.
I love thee as I seem to lose myself in snuggly duvet warmth,
With dog tucked up, a page of Abbey’s Desert Solitaire.
I love thee with the fresh breath of teeth brushed under stars, flossed by moonlight; dishes washed in warm Dr. Bronner’s suds as constellations wheel overhead.
Smiles, tears; travel memories cherished all my life; and, if ever we choose a bigger trailer
I shall but love thee better after selling.
Nomads in a Little Red Trailer 
Happiness!________________________________
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Janice, thank you for your note and for reaching out!
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