Some weekends, we leave

Cold February rain dripped and ran into my shoes today, when I rushed from work to go pick Bowie up from doggie daycare.  The ground is already claggy from the days of downpour we had last week, deep puddles forming in the areas where everything has already been drowned.  It’s a miserably stark contrast to the sun and warmth we were bathed in just a few weekends ago.  We made a spontaneous (and all too infrequent) decision to get out of town for a quick weekend getaway to Hill Country.  I could find a quiet, sunny spot to curl up and read a book.  Bryan could breathe clean air and escape from concrete and traffic noise.  And Bowie could run around unimpeded to his heart’s delight and not bother us.

Via Airbnb, we quickly found an ideally appointed barndominium that perched on 20 acres overlooking a river and drove down as quickly as we could throw our belongings in a few bags.  For once, the weather was with us that weekend and we spent more of the weekend outside than we did inside.  For almost every single daylight hour, we lounged around underneath the wraparound porch that overlooked the rambling hills of central Texas.  Conveniently and most cleverly, the house had both indoor and outdoor fireplaces, and I built a raging fire that kept us roasting into the chilly evening, cheeks red and smelling of burning mesquite.  Even the nasty spider bite that erupted on Bryan’s thumb, swelling up puffy and alarmingly white, couldn’t squash the ebullience we felt all weekend.

We couldn't step away from the outdoor fireplace

I’ve had the luck to be able to travel to a lot of different places, far and wide, but my mind keeps wandering back to our Hill Country getaway.  It feels just beyond grasping distance and yet close enough to where I can smell the steaks on the grill and the first, tiniest hint of spring.  More than the newest phone, fastest car, or shiniest jewelry, I want the stars at night, glittering in their velvet setting so brightly I could reach up and pluck them, white hot in my fingers.  I want the wide unfenced spaces where the dog can run off, but not too far because the big blue sky is so large and he’s still so very young.

Those sunsets

So now, a barndominium sits on the wish list.  And land - rocky or treed, green or brown or red.  Somewhere we can get lost - in ourselves and in our surroundings.  At least for a little while.