As I near the end of the first round of my journey; visions of all of the wonderful things I’ve seen, memories of smiles with great friends I’ve made, and yearnings for the new nests I’ve come to love, are in the forefront of my mind.

I started this quest with the thought of finding a new nesting spot. Another paradise, in mini-form, like the home I had in northern Michigan.

This weekend, I will return to my homeland. With only my travel nest.

I’m good with that.

Bella and I will stay the summer with Echo and our friend, JP, at the cat glamping lodge. Baby Blue will get some needed spa time as well, while we have our workshop available. We’ll mini-journey to friend’s houses in Michigan, visit our own beautiful shorelines, and tidy up the loose ends of “stuff” I left behind.

I’ve never been more excited to get rid of stuff in my life.

So many chapters of new adventures lie ahead of us. New horizons, and new-found nesting spots we want to revisit.

One of those places, will be our “home base” next winter.

My journey has shown me I don’t really want a full-time nest. I don’t want to find a spot to build a tiny house and settle down in a warm winter location. I love the newness, the constant growth, the pushing my mind and my body into new spaces.

But, constant travel doesn’t afford me the luxury of creating, and that is a big part of who I am.

Settling in to a spot, where the people feel like family, and the place feels like home, allows time to sit and breathe. To be spontaneous with friends. To be creative. To write.

The vision has changed.

I’ve decided my travel nest will have home bases. So far, there are two. Northern Michigan in the summer, where I will sell my wares at festivals and farmer’s markets. And Ichetucknee Springs Campground, in Florida next winter.

Why?

It’s like somebody bottled northern Michigan, shook it up so it’s arranged differently, and poured it into the foreignness of Florida.

Blue-green waters lie in pools, scattered in springs everywhere throughout the area. A fifteen minute drive, and you can pick your 70 degree bathtub. A little over an hour in either direction, and you decide if you want an east coast or west coast beach, without paying the premium camping rates.   A day’s journey; you can be in the Florida Keys.

Wildlife romps through the woods, meeting you on wooded trails, where you can hike to your heart’s delight.   Or hunt wild mushrooms for dinner.

The people have soul; they breathe life. Music drifts from instruments played at campsites. Friends roll up on bicycles to ask about joining impromptu kayak trips. Occasional work grinders spin under workshop tents. You get texts asking if you want in on Chinese take-out. Bonfires are huge, and sometimes filled with images of guitars. They are always filled with stories.   Gatherings spontaneously happen everywhere, especially on the welcoming front porch.

True, you do have to put up tapestries in front of your bathroom door, so deaf Don doesn’t interrupt your morning duties when he pulls up on his golf cart. It doesn’t matter how loud you yell, he’s not going to hear your “just-a-minute”.

But that’s just because I don’t have to close my door here. Or lock it.

I can be totally me, they can be totally them, and we all love each other.

My colors can fly in the wind, my star lights twinkle in the trees at night, and Goddess enjoys rides around the campground.

The cats run free, and like checking out the armadillo holes. The camp cats come to visit, and ask Bella to come and play outside.

A little piece of paradise, where great live music can be found on the patio most days at the Great Outdoors, a local restaurant, or on the stage of the Rum 138 gallery nearby every other weekend. Local artists have social gatherings, to hang out and collaborate.

Bambi’s organic farm fills our skillet with fresh produce from the High Springs Farmer’s Market on Thursdays. Melt in your mouth peaches, and more, are a quick stop at the Farmer’s Market open daily in Fort White.

You can bicycle to the Ichetucknee Headspring, or Don will help you get there with your kayak. Don’t have one? He will rent you a kayak, canoe or tube, and transport you to and from the river.   The river itself, is unbelievable clear, pristine, and filled with wildlife. Even manatees.

Kids chase bugs, talk to each other, and play in the pinball arcade. Parents teach them to shoot pool next to the fireplace in the game room, where there’s a fire every night.

Art is everywhere. A hand-painted mural surrounds you in the beauty of the springs, even when you’re inside the campground office. A forgotten bar, reminiscent of the campground’s heyday, keeps watch there, where Miss Judy is tucked into an old wooden desk. She knows the answer to every question, including where you can get cash to pay for your site. No credit cards here.   It’s like falling back in time; to a simpler life.

With family.

I found another home base, where it’s warm in the winter.

But don’t worry, I’ll still be traveling and adventuring too. I have lots more stories to tell from this first winter, and will be making more year-round.   Because northern Michigan, and northern Florida are home bases, just sometime nests.   A full-time nest is no longer my world.