When this morning began, I expected to visit Georgia O’Keefe’s beloved Ghost Ranch and then drive towards the Land Between the Lakes near the Tennessee-Kentucky border. I put out a few lodging requests in Maine which was my reason for heading East, only to find that those options didn’t pan out. Instead, with only three hours notice, I booked a week-long stay in a converted school bus down a dusty, gravel road near the base of the mountains.
The space is spartan: I provided my own bedding and there is no electricity or running water. A wood stove sits in the middle which is warming my toes as we speak. I didn’t have cooking utensils with me, and so I collected fresh fruit and pantry goods which I could eat without heat or refrigeration. Nesting ensued as soon as I rushed back from town in search of firewood– I sprayed everything down with Lysol, decorated the sofa with my great grandmother’s afghan, hung shawls and a dupatta from India for privacy; I reused my coffee cup as a vase for a small bouquet, and, most importantly, pulled out Eleanor, the vintage typewriter I purchased after returning from Thailand last year.
Eleanor has been waiting patiently since my return. Even her carrying case came in handy as a make-shift fruit bowl. By the time I got settled in this evening, only my laptop provided the light I needed, but tomorrow…tomorrow I will write.
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