Homeward bound

I like going off-ranch for a day every four to six weeks. But I like going home even better. The "metropolis" I go to shop is a joke compared to, say, New Jersey or... well, just about anywhere with a real Urban Complex. (Like I wanna be there.)

Nevertheless, I feel a definite sense of release and gratitude once I am finally on the homeward leg of my all-day supply-run. From the tiny county seat, where I turn north, I have about seventeen miles of dirt before I cross the river and hit the one-lane (two-track) oiled road for another fifteen or so miles until I turn off on the one-lane dirt into my place, another two miles. But it's like pulling into "home port" for me. The dogs (in their safe and comfy shop+fenced area— (hey! they have their own couch in there!) give me a great greeting as if I have been away for years! I'm sure the fact that I have brought them goodies from town has nothing whatsoever to do with the quality of their welcome. That they check out each and every bag is only a bizarre coincidence.

Like I said, I like going out occasionally, but coming back is even better.