My husband and me

Day One: April 12. I always am restless the night before traveling and Friday was no exception. We were up and leaving by seven thirty with the goal of driving four hundred miles. My only request way that we stop every two hours so I could stretch my legs. Luckily, the dog needs to relieve himself so that is a given. The route from Connecticut West is familiar. I’ve been over it hundreds of times. Maybe it’s too familiar. The softly rolling hills are covered with Maples, oaks and a few Birches. Buds are small, not ready to show a hint of green because of the continued cold. New York, then Pennsylvania. Not much changes. The hills are considered mountains, but still roll. Wide valley; s are spanned by high bridges and I try to avoid looking down. Huge farms are spread along the road. Corn fields from last year are waiting to be turned, the chopped stalks spread around. Eventually it gets flat. I read the town names and am reminded that the area was settled by immigrants escaping religious persecution: Promised Land; Bethlehem; Sharon are interspersed by Stubenville, DuBois and other ethnic names. We cross the Allegheny several times and the Susquehanna. Both are muddy and high. There is a brush fire alonside the highway and I notice the fire trucks are blue. Finally we stop in Clearville, Pennsylvania, do some shopping at WalMart and set-up for the night. It’s warm in the low fifties and I fall asleep at eight while my husband is walking the dog.

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