So the light blogging period is over and I’m back to keeping up with you guys every day, and then some. All in all, it was a pleasant drive to New York, with a stop on the way up with my awesome and artistic friends Joy and Daniel. The way down… well, my first day’s plans to meet someone for lunch fell through, and my plans to spend Monday and Tuesday hiking in Shenandoah and perhaps Mount Rogers in Virginia were greeted with rain and storms and lightning. (I was still thinking about hiking Old Rag Mountain, but something about spending time on an exposed granite summit during a thunderstorm seemed a little silly.) I finally spun off I77 in a huff (I can still do a pretty good huff) and went to the south bank of the New River, which has 20 or 30 miles of good trail alongside. It was sprinkling, but damnit, I’d planned on hiking, and I was going to hike.
The rest of the drive back wasn’t too bad. I crossed the perimeter into Atlanta around 1630, and a few wide turns later, I got my first view of the Atlanta skyline after almost a week away. And apparently, every single car in Georgia (and a few from Alabama) knew that I had missed seeing my city, so they all got together and blocked traffic on the freeway so I had more than enough time to look at it. sigh And the strange thing is, I’m still glad to be home.
Working on an inspirational post right now, along with this week’s story. I’m having issues with one since I’m afraid it’s a little too dark, but eventually I’ll probably put it out. It’s always a little bothersome when you peek into the dark corners of your mind, looking for something scary, and actually find something scary. Or disturbing. Or both.