Hampton is centrally located in what's known as Connecticut's Last Green Valley, nearly 1,000 square miles of greenspace by day and dark sky by night. Until the 1950s, it was a dairy farm community, and while it may be considered a bedroom community today, Hampton has many small family farms, one dairy farm, and enough conservation area to remain rural. How this area has escaped me all these years, I do not know. 

While I was taken by the scenery, it also smelled so good! In addition to the vineyard grapes, it was so apparent that the air was clean due to few cars and industry, as well as the greenspace. It smelled fresh; it smelled like farm; and when summer transitioned to fall, it had its own crisp, leafy smell. This may sound funny, I know, but it was so noticeable to me whether I was in the woods or on the bike seat along the roadways.      

And, how did I land here in 2020? The area is about an hour from family & friends I planned to connect with, it came recommended for cycling, and a new Airbnb listing showed up! While I did have one pleasant afternoon with family members, I was immersed in the beauty of this place. Driving elsewhere didn't seem to make a lot of sense to me. Driving seldom makes a lot of sense to me. 

Yet, the calendar turns tomorrow, so I'm heading a few hundred miles west to Cooperstown, NY for October. No baseball and no expectations. 

*Thanks to Earth, Wind & Fire for this memorable song to sing this month! Recorded September 1978. 

From the Berkshires I headed East toward the "hometown" to visit with a few family members and friends, as well as celebrate the second half of my birth month. There is no doubt in my mind now that at 64, people will still feed me, and given the calls, cards, texts, and surprises received, I do believe some people still need me. Putting aside the lack of postal delivery (Where is my priority mail?), and the arrival of Hurricane Laura residual, it was a great 48 hour celebration! Thanks to all of you who remembered and those of you who stayed out in the rain! Let another year begin.     

The past three weeks have flown by in Frostburg -- a small town of 9,000 folks at 2100'. Not a lot of hustle and bustle, which is perfect, and I'm enjoying the mountain views on every walk and ride. 

Frostburg was put on the map in 1811 by the National Road, the first federally funded 620-mile "highway" connecting the Potomac and Ohio Rivers. Originally called Mount Pleasant, it was renamed for Meshach and Catherine Frost in 1820 when the postal service arrived. The Frosts built the first house here in 1812, were the first major coal producers in the area, and had great success due to the railroad lines. The other major influence in Frostburg came in 1898 with the authorization for a school that today is Frostburg State University, adding over 5,000 students to town (though nary a one this summer). 

The mountains, the coal mining, the railroad, and the University have an obvious impact on the Frostburg culture, and it's quite a little microcosm of the USA.  On Main Street, you can have a cone at the Frostburg Freeze, a beer at the Moose Lodge, or sip under the tent at the Toasted Goat Winery. Folks are here to ride ATVs or do some fly fishing, to hike Savage Mountain, and to bike along the Great Allegheny Passage (GAP). The coal industry is gone; the railroad lines are biking, walking and ski trails; and the forests and mountains are shared by a variety of sports enthusiasts.  

More than a decade ago, I biked Pittsburgh to DC along the GAP and C&O trails, but Frostburg wasn't a stop. So, I'm quite pleased to be here cycling again, living in a cozy spot reading, writing and cooking, and spending time poking around town. I've shared a long chat at the Winery with a dear friend; a friendly conversation with a GAP thru-rider; and a hundred hellos all around town. The photos tell the rest of this story!    

It's been too easy to stay in hiding and regress to unhealthy habits amidst the virus fear and socioeconomic anxiety. So, while I'll admit to some restless nights coupled with a few large pizzas, I'm also actively avoiding a lackadaisical lifestyle.

Suffice to say that I'm pleased to be without TV, yet must admit that Twitter is eating too many hours of my brain. I'm grateful for a lovely kitchen; for a patio with a view so I'm outdoors even when I don't get out the door; for two wheels and two feet to cruise about town; and for my continued love of learning. While I've yet to focus a minute on my book proposal, I did complete my history course, am habitually reading two books simultaneously, et oui, j'etudie le Francais, aussi!  Honestly, my "to do list" seems never-ending.  

If there's one thing I've learned these past five years, it's how important it is to keep my eyes wide open to see and appreciate what every place and most people have to offer. ​So for weeks, while Baltimore had very few cars and people about, I did pause and appreciate the city. Socially, I'm feeding my need for people time with phone calls (lots of family & friend birthdays this spring), and on two days in May, I actually had in-person fun.  

Believe me, I miss life on the road and cocooning in my tent. I miss waking up with the sun to the birds singing. I miss stepping out of bed and stepping into the great outdoors. Yes, I miss living outside and meeting people with stories to tell. But, I'm not ready to share public spaces, so remaining nomadic means moving to a new (indoor) location mid-June in the hills of Western Maryland. Stay with me.