Lord I Was Born a Ramblin ( Wo ) Man......

We finally are headed north ! As I write this ( we have a new E.V.O.D card that allows us to access the net wherever there is cell coverage) we are driving north on the 101 to an organic permaculture farm in northern Washington, where through a mutual friend, we have found temporary work ! I will probably not t have regular net or cell phone access while there, (I will be able to go into town or use a land line to check eBay auctions though) so this will be my last post for a week or maybe more . It was quite difficult to get Moss's pre trial changed, but we did it after much back and forth phone calling to the lawyers. It is now set for December 5th instead of oct 17. That means we will have to drive back here in the next month or so, but for now we are northward bound !


Santa Barbara is lovely and has been nice to us but it was so time to leave. I can always tell when it is time to really move on because a place starts to look and feel different, sort of empty feeling and desolate . This is however different from actually wanting to leave and feeling as though it is time to leave. We can want to leave a place badly, but if it is not really time to leave then it becomes quite difficult. I have seen this time and time again in my travels over the years. Some towns have a particularly strong hold, New Orleans is one of them. The other reason I know it is really time to leave is the steady stream of visitors throughout the day and being unable to take a walk on the beach without running into someone I know. Don't get me wrong, we love meeting people but it can get tiring when all I want is a little privacy.


Living in such a high profile home tends to attract a lot of attention. People see our bus and make all sorts of assumptions about us. They often identify us, correctly, as free spirited, caring and open minded people. Certainly, like everyone we have our many flaws, but we do strive for this ideal. Because of this, unlike folks in a conventional RV, we regularly attract a LOT of people, of all backgrounds who come looking for healing and someone to talk to. We don't mind this at all and are happy to listen and give and receive energy to a person when we can, but it can sometimes be scary and a bit difficult to read someones real intentions and allow them into our home. We often have trouble defining our personnel boundaries and knowing where to draw the line. Now, with a baby things are even more complicated as we want her home to be a safe and healthy place. It just seems that sometimes the rules that apply to those who live in brick and mortar houses are different than those that apply to rolling homes. This is understandable, to a certain extent and is part of why I love travel, but it can be complicated at times.


For example, this week we were sitting in the bus reading when there was a knock at the door and a voice called out


" Spare a little time for an old Vietnam vet ? " followed by, " Permission to board ?" in a very military sounding voice.


I went to the doorway to see a weathered looking bearded, grey haired man wearing a faded black cap with the words "Vietnam vet" on it and a huge back pack. He was a bit dirty and smelled of whisky, but my heart went out to him. These kinds of situations can be difficult as it requires one to make a character judgment of a person in the space of a few seconds. So far we have never been wrong, but there is always that possibility. When I was younger and hitchhiking around the country by myself I got a lot of practice in this art form. When someone pulls over and offers a ride, you have about twenty seconds to asses the person and make the right decision. I rely a lot on my gut instinct and intuition.


Moss and I looked at each other and shrugged,I turned back to the fellow and told him,


"O.k, but leave your pack outside "


He put his pack down and hobbled into the bus, sitting down on the bench, thanking us repeatedly. We then began over an hour long conversation consisting of him crying hysterically and reliving, in vivid detail , story after story of his time in nam. He showed us bullet holes, where he was damaged by agent orange and cried bitter tears for his brother William, killed in combat. This was a broken man and my heart went out to him. The intensity of his emotion was frightening and we did not know what else to do so we just listened, which I think was all he wanted anyway. At one point I reached out and grabbed his hand and he seemed to appreciate this. When he was finished we offered him some food, which he ate then thanked us and went on his way.


This is just one example of an often repeated scenario, with a varying cast of characters, all with stories to tell, some sad, some happy, some rich, some poor, all just wanting to share.


Anyway, Sage is doing well and seems to enjoy traveling, though this will be her first long trip. We are trying to provide a sort of stability in our day to day rituals to counter the constant stream of new places and people that she encounters. I think she is adjusting well. I took a series of photos of her, my favorite to date, showing the first time on her belly and having "floor time".


I have included them below.....

Song to a Seagull.......

Today was such a beautiful windy day ! The kind of wind that shakes the bus and bends the trees ! I adore windy days. There is something magical about wind that seems to transform any ordinary day into one of mystery and wonder. I went out to the beach for a walk while Moss stayed back at the bus with Sage. They are both sick..runny noses, coughing. Poor girl, this is her first cold and she is teething as well.


I wore my mohair poncho, as I always do on windy days. It's warm and cozy and flaps around behind me like a cape or wings as I walk. I had a great time on the beach alone reflecting on all the recent and wonderful changes in my life. I also took the opportunity to study some bird species I was unfamiliar with and take some photos. I saw a few dead birds out there which was sad. I wonder if it's from all the pollution in the storm run off pond where the sea birds hang out.


On a sad note..early this morning while driving from our night time sleeping spot to our daytime hang out spot, I saw a dead sea gull in the road. He was recently killed, just a few hours maybe. Such a beautiful bird he was, so clean and white and healthy looking. He lay on his back, wings spread out behind him like an angel and head turned to one side. In some morbid way he looked quite beautiful. If it wasn't for the small trickle of bright red blood coming from the side of his beak, one might wonder if he was still alive.


It made me so sad to see him like that, cut down in his prime. He was an adult herring gull , and judging by the beautiful condition of his feathers, had probably recently finished a molt. Perhaps it was his first adult molt, as herring gulls retain their brownish feathers for several years before growing the typical white and grey ones.


We stopped the bus and Moss went out to move him from the middle of the street to a patch of shrubs on the side of the road . We frequently do this for animals we see that have been killed in the road. We do this for a few reasons... one because neither of us can stand to see such beautiful creatures rotting on asphalt, instead of earth, and two because it keeps the crows and other scavengers from being hit while attempting to feed.


There are a lot birds around here, especially on the beach where we park. There are a few juvie gulls and a flock of pigeons that we have become acquainted with as well as many other species of gulls and salt water birds of which I am unfamiliar. Every day the pigeons are there to greet our big green bus as we pull up. I throw them bread, bird seed and whatever we have that's healthy. A few times I had Palomino with me on my lap and it was interesting watching their reaction. I think they trust me more now because they saw another pigeon being friendly with me and now they don't venture far from the bus during the day.


Seeing that sea gull and my walk on the beach today reminded me of one of my favorite Joni Mitchell songs, Song to a Seagull.......


Song To a Seagull


Fly silly seabird

No dreams can possess you

No voices can blame you

For sun on your wings


My gentle relations

Have names they must call me

For loving the freedom

Of all flying things


My dreams with the seagulls fly

Out of reach out of cry


I came to the city

And lived like old crusoe

On an island of noise

In a cobblestone sea


And the beaches were concrete

And the stars paid a light bill

And the blossoms hung false

On their store window trees


My dreams with the seagulls fly

Out of reach out of cry


Out of the city

And down to the seaside

To sun on my shoulders

And wind in my hair

But sandcastles crumble

And hunger is human

And humans are hungry

For worlds they cant share


My dreams with the seagulls fly

Out of reach out of cry



I call to a seagull

Who dives to the waters

And catches his silver-fineDinner alone

Crying where are the footprints

That danced on these beaches

And the hands that cast wishes

That sunk like a stone


My dreams with the seagulls fly

Out of reach out of cry.................













Some of the regulars gathered in front of the bus. The view from the pop out window.