Difficult roads often lead to beautiful destinations.

-Unknown

This is not your average travel blog, I hope. It is about life and learning its lessons in whatever way they are presented. For those who don’t know, on May 11th, 2021, my wife of over 25 years, Wanda, was diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer. One day, while in the waiting room at the oncologist’s office, something happened that you could call a sign. A TV commercial caught my attention. It was for Harvest Hosts, a RV membership site that allows you, for a yearly fee, to stay for free at thousands of breweries, wineries, farms, ranches, museums, etc., all around the country. I said to myself right there that if at all possible, we were going to do that. After months of chemo that wasn’t working, things were bleak. But then, a bit of a miracle happened. She was put on a new genetic therapy that changed everything. She feels pretty good for the most part, medication side effects notwithstanding. We are taking advantage of this gift, the greatest gift of all, more time, by getting out there and doing something we’d dreamed about for so long but never had the time, money, or, most importantly, the courage to do (or so we thought). It turns out we tell ourselves many things that aren’t true. That is Lesson # 1

Enjoy!

D. Scott Sonnenburg 10/3/24 D. Scott Sonnenburg 10/3/24

A New Chapter

“Life is about change, sometimes it's painful, sometimes it's beautiful, but most of the time it's both.”

-Kristin Kreuk.

******

Well, I did it. Two days after the last email, I took off for Arizona with little planning. When trusting life and the forces orchestrating it, there is a saying that when you leap, the net will appear. I put this to the test, and it worked out well.

My trip consisted of 10 days, 3868 miles, and 66 hours in the saddle. I traversed eight states, two of which I had never visited: New Mexico and Kansas.

I am happy to say that I found the place I belong to begin the next chapter. It is a unique little town with quite a story, both its own and mine and Wanda’s. I wouldn’t bother with a blog post if there weren’t a backstory here, and a cool one at that. But first, just a few photos of the trip west.

You always hear about how flat Kansas is but you can't appreciate it until you see it. The cirrus clouds that day were like a painting.

**The only tree for miles.**

While taking pictures here, a lady pulled up in a battered old car and asked if I was OK. I said I was and that I was just admiring the view. She looked a tad confused and then told me she lives here, somewhere out there over the horizon, and has her entire life. It made me aware of the immense variety of available human experience, simply based on where you were born. How far from New York City is this place in every conceivable way? How far from the thick, dark, endless northern forests? Or the gray, moody Pacific Northwest, the sky-piercing mountains of Tibet, or even the relatively nearby Rockies? How foreign would those places be to someone who has lived here their entire life? I find it astonishing that all these places exist on one planet.

On day three, while crossing eastern Colorado, mountains suddenly appeared in the distance after days of flatness, signaling a welcome change in geography. (Please overlook the bug-splattered windshield).
I will say that when traveling alone in places like this, your memories will find you, whether you like it or not. There were times I was acutely aware of the empty seat next to me and the wonderful woman who used to fill it, and other times when I was brought to tears, comforted by a loving presence I can’t describe.

I avoided the interstates as much as possible and was rewarded with roads like this. At over 5500 ft., but not looking like it, this area was mesmerizing. Up ahead, there was a pullout with parking and a sign signifying this as the location of the darkest night skies in Colorado because of how far it is from *everything*. There, I sat on a nice flat rock for some time, seeing only a car or two, and let the vastness swallow me. It was the quietest place I have ever been, unnervingly yet refreshingly so. I could have stayed there all day.

From there, the road rose sharply into the San Juan Mountains, culminating at 10,230 ft. at La Manga Pass. Autumn comes early at nearly two miles high.

The skies were so blue. This was one of the prettiest drives I have ever taken, and my soul was soothed and soaring.

It’s hard to believe that people actually live in places like this.

This is on the other side of the pass just before the big decent down to the valley floor and the New Mexico border. The mix of deciduous and evergreen trees creates a wonderful and vibrant texture as the colors change.

And then the landscape changed dramatically once again to red-rock buttes and arroyos. This picture was taken on Navajo land and it had a mystical feel, as if it was alive and somehow aware. As the wind gently rattled in my ears, I couldn’t help but feel as if I was being watched.

And then, my final destination and new home-

Jerome, Arizona

Population- 464, give or take

Altitude- 5066 ft., give or take.

Founded in 1886

This is where the story gets interesting. Over 30 years ago, before we were married, Wanda and I passed through Jerome to go to nearby Sedona. I remember it well. From the west, Jerome is approached from above after miles of tight, winding road. It is impressive as the view opens, and suddenly, you come upon this town in the most improbable of places, clinging to a steep mountainside as if dropped from space.

Wanda had been there in the past and talked about how much she loved it. For her, it was just one of those things when you are attracted to a place and can’t explain why. Was it the dramatic setting, the history, the ghost stories? I suspect it was all of these things and more, and for the next 30 years, I often heard how much she wished we could live there. I never took it seriously because I didn’t think it was possible.

Rentals are extraordinarily rare in a town where a new dwelling hasn’t been built in over 100 years. And when I headed west, living in Jerome was the furthest thing from my mind. But while in central Arizona, looking in other areas, a listing popped up, and through some crazy luck, coincidence, or perhaps a little help from beyond, I got it.

In a eulogy for my brother Joe, I said that we honor those who have passed by living well and doing the things they loved to do with them in our thoughts and hearts. And I feel I’m doing this, and by the way it all worked out (it really was one in a million), it points to the fact that there are forces in our lives that we can’t comprehend, but we can honor with gratitude while embracing the mystery of it all.

An old copper mining town, Jerome is a unique, charming, and interesting place, similar to many of the areas we have lived. I am going there to get back to life and live the best way I can as I continue to heal and grow. It is a tourist town of artists, art galleries and studios, hotels, restaurants, and bars, and I intend to become acquainted with every inch of it.

It is supposedly one of the most haunted places in the country, so much so that its nickname is ”Ghost City”.

The view to the east goes forever. I stupidly didn’t take any pictures of my view, but this is very similar, sans the ugly white building. From my place, you can clearly see the red rocks of Sedona, over 30 miles away. The sunrises and moonrises will be incredible, and stargazing should be fantastic. I am going to have to get a telescope.

My new start is behind those white doors.
Thanks so much for reading!

D. Scott Sonnenburg 2/7/24 D. Scott Sonnenburg 2/7/24

Goodbye

This following was written for family, friends, and co-workers who knew and loved Wanda. It was also written for those who didn’t know her well or not at all but felt they did through following the blog. But most of all, it is written for Wanda and me. For her, because she deserves to be honored in such a way, and for me, because I need to honor her by doing it. Part obituary, part memorial, and part eulogy, it wasn’t easy to create for many reasons. But here it is. Thank you for reading.

Wanda Lee Schuster was born in Cleveland, Ohio, on April 11th, 1953. Her family soon moved west like so many (mine included) to California in search of, I assume, at the very least, better weather.

Except for a stint at Winchell’s Donuts, Wanda never had a job that wasn’t healthcare related. She started at Palomar Hospital in Escondido, CA., as a ward clerk, a.k.a. unit secretary. In 1976, she earned her LVN from Mira Costa College in Oceanside, CA., and began working in Palomar’s Emergency Department. And then, in 1979, she gave birth to her daughter Angie.

Things didn’t work out with her first husband, Angie’s dad, and they soon divorced, leaving Wanda to care for Angie alone. In 1986, desiring a better living and to better care for her daughter, Wanda earned her RN from Palomar College in San Marcos, CA. Impressively, she went to nursing school while working nights and caring for a young child, and she did so with little help.

I became an EMT in 1986 and got my certification from the same college. After several years on the streets of San Diego in an ambulance, and as fate would gloriously have it, I got a job as an ER technician at Palomar. Our paths were about to cross, and a life-changing love story was about to begin.

Palomar Medical Center is a level II trauma center, and after many years as an ER nurse, Wanda transferred to the Trauma Department, where she served as a Trauma Clinician. In addition to teaching, building databases, and trauma research, one of her duties was to ensure accurate documentation, beginning with the trauma code in the Emergency Department. And this is where I come in. One of my duties was to document trauma codes, and my charting was subject to quality review. And guess who did that?

We worked together for some time, sometimes in the trauma room, sometimes simply passing in the hallways with nothing more than a smile and a hello. But things changed at the ER’s annual Halloween shindig, where we first became aware of each other in a more than professional way. We began dating and things moved quickly, and on March 26th, 1996, we were married.

Two months later, we loaded everything we could into the back of a pickup truck and headed to Alaska with no jobs and no idea where we would live. But we survived and had a lot of adventures in the great white north, living there for 13 years in Anchorage, Eagle River, and Ketchikan.

Over the next 14 years, we lived in Wisconsin then Florida and then we returned to Wisconsin. In addition to ER nursing, which she did for 33 years, Wanda had various nursing roles from one end of the country to the other. She served as stroke coordinator in an ER in Florida and helped design and open a fast-track (urgent care) portion of a brand-new ER in Alaska. Her last role was in clinical documentation improvement, which she could do from home. All told, Wanda was a nurse for over 45 years and was in healthcare even longer.

That is a long time, and she witnessed a monumental amount of change. Wanda used to tell stories that when she started in the hospital, doctors were allowed to smoke at the nurses’ station, and nurses were expected to give up their chairs to doctors whenever they walked in. Wow.

As most of you know, in May of 2021, Wanda was diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer. And if anything good could be said about that, it did get her to retire. We then began a 31-month “journey” that we would have preferred to have never taken. It encompassed six medical centers, over 15 doctors, and countless medications, appointments, tests, scans, and treatments. But like everything else we did in life, we did it together, hand in hand.

Wanda passed away in the hospital on January 10, 2024, at 7:00 am, minutes before I arrived to see her. She is survived by her daughter Angie, her grandchildren Stella and Charlotte, brothers John and Eric, her sister Gail, and her forever adoring husband Scott.

***

There will be much more regarding our cancer journey and the many faces of grief in the future in what I think will be an upcoming book. But this is about honoring my wife in the moment. And now I am going to do so.

***

Wanda was the kindest, sweetest, and most beautiful soul I have ever known. I can’t believe I was lucky enough to not only have known her but also to have had the honor of calling her my wife for literally half my life. I don’t know what I did to deserve her.

I loved the way she loved me; I loved the way she loved her daughter and granddaughters; I loved the way she loved her friends. I loved her spirited and open view of the world, filled with innocent wonder and childlike curiosity. I loved riding through the countryside and listening to her comments on the scenery passing by. “Look at those clouds and those colors. Oh, what a beautiful barn! Look, there is a bunch of deer in that field…they’re so pretty”. And while the view was pretty, it paled compared to her.

I loved the way she cried every time she heard the national anthem. I loved how she said please and thank you to everyone, including me, for whatever small thing I may have done for her, even after all those years. And I loved how she always said she loved what I cooked for her, even when it wasn’t that great.

Her caregivers, co-workers, and new and old friends all say the same thing- being with Wanda meant having a smile and serene and comfortable happiness in your heart. It was impossible not to. She was magnetic; people wanted to be near her and her calm and soothing energy. Her inner beauty was on display up until the end.

She extended innate respect and human kindness to all, the homeless or mentally ill, in the ER or on the street. When an elderly patient was in the ER, sick, alone, and scared, she would hold their hand or stroke their hair and listen intently to what they had to say, and she did it with eye contact, genuine concern, and a smile. She was comforting and compassionate, what a great nurse should be first and foremost (see the attached letter in the photo section).

Comforting, compassionate, pure of heart, authentic, these aren’t things you learn in nursing school. They are part of who she was.

God, I miss her. Every day, I’d walk George in the pre-dawn darkness and then put him on the bed by her side. I’d bring her meds and a cup of coffee, kiss her forehead, and check to see if she was OK, and when I knew she was, I’d thank the heavens that I had at least one more day with her.

I miss taking her to Michaels to buy yarn or art supplies or sitting at Panera Bread in the morning, her with her favorite orange scone and a cup of black coffee, hands wrapped around the mug for warmth, talking about life and, all too often, her illness.

She faced cancer with unimaginable courage and grace. There was never a “why me” moment. I remember when we first realized this was metastatic disease and we knew what that meant, her first instinct was to tearfully tell me that she didn’t want to put me through this. I have never met a more selfless person.

I miss simply being near her, and I will never get over losing her, this I know, but I will find a way to go on and somehow find my way in a colder and duller world that forever will be missing something extraordinary. There are few things more challenging in life, but I must do it, if not for me, for her.

She was truly a part of me, the best part, and was my biggest supporter and fan, as I was hers. We were joined in a way I didn’t know was humanly possible; our souls were and will forever be entwined. Ultimately, I will miss her unfailing, unconditional, and endless love, a love that lit the darkest parts of me and all of life itself.

Goodbye, my sweet baby. I will always love you.

Wanda Lee Sonnenburg

04/11/53-01/10/24

Photos

The oldest known photograph of us at our wedding reception/party in the Spring of 1996. The effects of the nearby margarita machine can clearly be seen.

Hiking near Thompson Pass above Valdez, Alaska.

Hanging out and enjoying some spring sun with Moose in our driveway in Eagle River, Alaska.

When we lived in Ketchikan, Wanda was part of an all-female sailboat racing team on a vessel called “Kermit.” She said it was one of the hardest things she ever did but was also one of the most fun. I’d sit on the shore, cheer them on, and watch them dodge cruise ships.

Fighting a losing battle against the snow.

This was from when we worked together in an ER in Anchorage, and it says it all about her and her compassion. It is amazing how life comes full circle.

Now, for a slight change in scenery. From Alaska to Florida with quick stop in Wisconsin.

Holding her granddaughter. Such a peaceful and contented look.

At Angie’s wedding, Cancun, Mexico. So beautiful.

With granddaughters Stella and Charlotte, and of course, George.

Celebrating my 50th birthday.

She was so strong.

At the Lyle Lovett show in Bayfield, Wisconsin.

I am not the only one who adored her.

I’ve decided to divide these pictures into pre and post-diagnosis. This was done not to emphasize the physical changes evident with the disease process, which are apparent, but because May 11th, 2021, was a dividing line between two entirely different lives for both of us, for good and bad. Notice how one thing never changes: her smile.

One of our favorite things.

Going to breakfast on a cool Autumn day, sitting lakeside in Minocqua.

I debated including pictures like this, but it is part of her story. And I feel that process, as challenging as it was, needs to be illuminated and acknowledged for what it was.

I love this. Anyone who knows Wanda and knows the character from Yellowstone knows how funny this is. There couldn’t be two more different people.

Wonderful shot of Wanda and her rapidly growing granddaughters.

Some pictures need no explanation- pure joy. This was from one of our Harvest Hosts stops, and as evidenced by that smile, those trips accomplished everything I wanted them to. Getting both of our minds off our reality and just having fun. It was the best summer of our lives.

Some of my favorite things-

A crisp, beautiful Autumn day with pumpkins, and my best friend (and a giant cow).

The 4th of July I believe.

The edema in her legs due to the medications was severe at times, so she had to elevate her legs often. It didn’t seem to affect her spirit, though. She took so much in stride. What a grin.

Our Harvest Hosts profile picture. Who wouldn’t want to entertain us?

Wanda at work in her little art studio on a winter day. You can see the stockpile of rocks waiting for her special treatment.

Wanda in her happy place, shopping for yarn. The wheelchair barely slowed her down.

And this was what the yarn was for. She knitted countless hats and scarves to be donated to veterans in homes and troops overseas. Each one got a card with a personal touch-a message and a little heart.

This is from the summer of 2020. A perfect day, one of many.

I somehow knew when I took this picture that it would be part of remembering her at some point. I didn’t quite grasp how soon that day would come. To me, this picture symbolizes everything I was lucky enough to know and love for nearly 30 years. Pure, innocent and timeless beauty that takes my breath away.

Wanda and her sister Gail right after scattering their mother’s ashes at sea. It is a beautiful way to acknowledge the circle of life and bring this post to a close. Thank you all for your time and attention. We love you.

This morning

I cried missing you.

I smiled remembering you.

I felt lost without you.

I sensed your presence near me.

I wished you could come home.

And I thought of the day

we will be reunited…

All within the same minute.

D. Scott Sonnenburg 10/21/22 D. Scott Sonnenburg 10/21/22

Trip #6, It Ain’t Over Yet…

(This title is a reference to a song of the same name by Rodney Crowell (I’d never heard of him either). It played on Spotify frequently during our summer adventures, and became our theme song for a few reasons, or at least the title did).

"We travel not to escape life, but for life not to escape us."

-Unknown

Well, it turned out we had one more adventure in us. But this time, there was a practical reason behind the journey.

We live in central Wisconsin, where it gets pretty cold if you aren’t aware. And we live in an apartment, so keeping our trailer through the winter isn’t possible. We were days away from having it winterized and stored when another option presented itself.

Wanda’s brother, who lives in central Texas, mentioned we could leave it with him. It would be a long trip, but after careful deliberation about what it would take for Wanda to be able to do it comfortably, we miraculously found three weeks without appointments of any kind, and we decided to go for it!

We made the trip a Harvest Hosts extravaganza with six HH stays and two campground stops mixed in to take care of business and rest. It took ten days to get there, making it our longest trip. It is 1250 miles to their place, shorter than you would think, a 2-3 day trip for most. But we took our time, as always, for Wanda, and so we could enjoy all the exotic places we would visit, like Iowa, Missouri, Oklahoma, and of course, Texas.

It came down to the fact that we didn’t know when (or if) we’d ever be able to do this again, so we just got out there and did it, knowing at this point there wasn’t much we couldn’t handle with some faith, patience, and will. It was the first time we left the state of Wisconsin all summer, and we knew there would be challenges, and there were a few times we wondered if we’d made a mistake. Some days were longer than we’d have liked, and it became hotter every day, something Wanda doesn’t handle very well anymore. But when all was said and done, we were so thankful—as always for the places we saw and the experiences we had, but mainly for the people we met.

In the spring, when we will be restless after a long winter, we hope to head south and reunite with the trailer to do a Harvest Hosts trip around the south, back west, and then north towards home.

But for now, let’s enjoy our first multi-state excursion!

Our first stop, 180 miles from home, was Stone Cliff Winery in downtown Dubuque Iowa. It was our first “urban” stop; and it was urban— as urban as downtown Dubuque Iowa can be. We camped in a casino parking lot.

This winery isn’t really a winery, as the wine is made in the nearby Iowa hinterlands, but that’s OK because the tasting room is in a brewery. So to sum it up, this is a winery that isn’t a winery, located in a brewery, where with dinner, instead of the wine that isn’t made here, we had the beer that used to be brewed here but isn’t brewed here anymore. And you know what? It was delicious!

The beautiful building, circa 1898, is located on the banks of the Mississippi river, where Wisconsin, Illinois, and Iowa meet.

The place was replete with lots of curiosities, knickknacks, doohickeys and thingamabobs, whose purposes will have to remain a mystery as there was nobody there to explain them. They were fascinating nonetheless.

We had a nice time here. Even though we camped less than 100 yards from a busy freight train track that pretty much kept us up all night, the setting was beautiful, and the food and drink were good. It was a great start to our odyssey, which in the morning would take us 150 miles south.

Wildlife Lakes Elk Farm, West Burlington, Iowa

We were happy to be directed to camp on the shore of a pretty 60-acre lake.

It was too late in the year to see the impressive antlers the bulls typically have. They are removed during the rut (aka mating season, which was in full swing while we were there), to prevent the agitated and oversexed elk from hurting each other or worse.

The owner, Henry, was quite a character and is someone I could have spent much more time with. He would celebrate his 85th birthday the next day and had all the energy of someone half his age. He is out there by himself taking care of all these animals and a couple of hundred acres every day, regardless of weather or anything else.

First year elk fawns.

Besides elk, Henry had another passion- participating in rebuilding the Trumpeter Swan population, and the lake on his property where we stayed is a breeding location for these magnificent birds. Having a wingspan of 6-8 feet, Trumpeter Swans are North America's heaviest flying birds, often weighing in at over 30 lbs. In the 1930s, the wild population was thought to be less than 70 birds, and extinction was sadly near. But thankfully, a flock of several thousand was discovered in Alaska. Using this stock, biologists carefully reintroduced the birds over the years to the lower 48, and because of this, and people like Henry, the population is now thought to be over 46,000. Here, mom and dad (in white) are standing watch over their four "cygnets" (in gray) while they go about their swan business.

It was a very peaceful setting.

The sunrise was golden. Trumpeter Swans are the badasses of the waterfowl world and will not allow other waterfowl species (particularly geese) to share the same water with them. But these mallards are tolerated for reasons only the swans know.

We bought some elk steaks and summer sausage from Henry, but we got much more out of the visit than that. He said he does Harvest Hosts to meet interesting people and hear their stories. And from what I can tell, those who visit his farm inevitably leave a piece of themselves behind. Well, he left a bit of himself with us as well. He is the grandfather I wish I still had, and is such a genuine, kind, and hardworking guy; I am confident that if I lived closer, we would be good friends.

Arlie’s Farm, Rogersville, Missouri

Arlie’s farm is a greenhouse and nursery operation selling fresh vegetables and such, but we were there too late in the year for that. The highlight for us (besides the people) was getting to meet Harley Hallelujah, a Clydesdale colt born last June.

Harley was like a big sweet dog who loved to be scratched. When we approached, he came trotting up to the fence, and I swear I saw his tail wagging a little bit. OK, not really. It is hard to believe he is only four months old. When fully grown, he will weigh over 2000 lbs. and stand 6 feet tall at the shoulder.

Harley had just been weaned from one of these two and was in a separate pasture for now. These are Budweiser-affiliated Clydesdales, the real deal, and these two have participated in pulling the Budweiser wagons and other beer-related PR activities. As can be seen, they are stunningly beautiful animals.

This was another instance of someone living their dream. Beth, seen here driving us around her farm, does this out of love for growing things and horses. You could feel her pride and joy as she showed us her life. It is life-affirming to be with people who have dared to do what they want, to work hard to create their vision of heaven. It is inspiring and is maybe the best part of these visits.

Tall Pines Distillery, Noel, Missouri.

At the end of a 1/2 mile dusty dirt road was the very clean and neat Tall Pines Distillery.

We couldn’t have asked for better weather for our visit to the Ozark mountains. Crystal clear and warm with low humidity, it was perfect.

After a tour and tasting of the potent spirits (none were under 100 proof) we settled in for the evening. The distillery closed at 5:00 and we were left alone on the quiet and isolated property to relax.

Morning dawned, once again cloudless and bright, and after a trip to a nearby town for some fuel and coffee (pretty much the same thing to my wife), we continued our journey south into yet another state.

Dakota Star Ranch, Checotah, Oklahoma

Parking at Dakota Star was in a large pasture. As can be seen, the environment has transitioned from lush and green to dry and brown. And by no coincidence, it was getting hotter every day too.

Dakota Star Ranch is owned by a wonderful couple from Texas who like so many we visit are living a life of purpose, passion and mission. To quote them- our mission is to provide a safe and loving home for farm animals, offer the public unique educational programs, grow nutritional produce for local programs, and to promote a culture of kindness and connection.

They have a makeshift market in their garage for Harvest Host guests and others to help support the ranch. We bought some cherry tomatoes and some homemade zucchini bread that we had for breakfast the next morning.

Hank, a 150 lb. Great Pyrenees, is the guardian of the livestock on the ranch, routinely running off coyotes and other predators. We can attest to this as we heard him do it in the middle of the night. But he has a softer side, as this cat knows pretty well. Can you find the kitty’s face?

These mini-longhorns were our first taste of Texas even though we were still in Oklahoma. The moniker “mini” is funny as they can weigh up to 800 lbs.

I loved this place. It was so open and quiet. A lovely warm breeze carried the earthly smell of freshly cut hay, and something about it was so relaxing it was almost intoxicating. The big sky was great for sky-gazing as well.

Not long after this shot, I sat alone in the gathering darkness waiting for the space station that would soon pass overhead. While just chillin’, I noticed that off in the murky distance, two large dark shapes were moving quickly and inexorably toward me. As the amorphous shapes rapidly grew in size, the hair on my neck began to stand up as I considered my options.

It turns out it wasn’t a couple of bigfoots, modern-day cattle rustlers, or space aliens there to give me good probing. It was just a couple of horses. But this pasture wasn’t supposed to have any animals in it. I texted the owner, and it turns out these were two wild mustangs recently rescued from Nevada, and they had escaped from their pasture because someone left a gate open. The funny thing is they are wild horses and had just become tame enough to be approached and hand fed by their owners. It is a mystery why they decided to scare the heck out of me by walking right up to me in the dark. But I am glad they did.

For whatever reason, these two mustangs thought our entry rug was fascinating, and they kept trying to pull it out from under the stairs.

As an aside, the dot of light above the horses is Jupiter, it was as bright as I’ve ever seen it, and just behind the trailer, a nearly full moon was rising. That, combined with the space station passing by, the visiting horses, and the coyotes yipping in the distance, made this a particularly magical night.

In the morning after our zucchini bread breakfast we headed south again, 230 miles to Texas.

NRS Ranch, Decatur, Texas

NRS (national roper’s supply) Ranch is a 400-acre cattle and horse property about 40 minutes from Dallas/Ft. Worth. As they say, this place is “all things western.” We took advantage of their water and electric RV hookups to use our air conditioning because it was getting hot! It was in the low 90’s the day we arrived (it was in the 50’s in Wisconsin). You can see some paddocks in the background; these hookups are for visiting rodeo competitors and spectators alike or people who are here for horse clinics, lessons, etc.

We felt a bit out of place here, but it was cool nonetheless. All these saddles are trophies, in a sense, for one rider from the area. It appears he is pretty good at what he does. The leatherwork was incredible; it is an art form we never knew existed.

The store is 100,000 square feet of everything a cowboy (or girl) would ever need, and it is said they have 10,000 different kinds of boots. There are aisles of nothing but spurs, reins, or whatever--it was crazy. We wandered through, enjoying the air conditioning, happily lost in all the stuff we didn’t understand.

We saw one hat here that cost nearly $4000!

A hundred yards from where we were camped was an arena where there was a calf-roping competition that night. We sat at ground level, right behind the bars, close enough to hear the animals grunt and breathe and to get dirt kicked on us more than once. Unfortunately, I don’t have any good pictures of the action that night; I wasn’t equipped to capture such fast motion in the low light.

Horses seem to be a theme on this trip, and it was cool to see them at work like this. These animals are graceful and swift and work so well with the riders. It was impressive.

This whole journey is about experiencing new things, and being this immersed in a calf-roping competition was certainly new to us.

In the morning we headed deeper into the heart of Texas, 142 miles straight south.

Buena Vista Wildlife Safari and RV Resort, Evant, Texas

Just one picture from this stop, our last in our beloved trailer for the year. We stayed here, only 40 minutes from our final destination, so we could dump and flush our tanks and do some routine maintenance before we shut her down until next Spring. It was rather sad.

And here she sits, in her home for the next 4-5 months, with Old Glory keeping watch. (special thanks to Eric and Jodi for allowing us to leave it there).

Buying the trailer and doing this was one of the best things we’ve ever done, and in 4 short months, it has endeared itself to us like an old dog. It is no longer a thing—a construct of fiberglass, wood, and metal; it is a memory maker, a life experiencer, a forge of love and freedom, a meeting place for hearts. In just four months, we have met many wonderful, interesting people, been to many incredible places, and eaten many different things while looking out the same windows. But outside those windows, the view changed daily, and those changes were reflected in us because as the scenery changed, we did as well. We are not the same people we were four months ago.

When in the trailer, unplugged, in some dark field somewhere, everything was different, better. So many warm nights spent listening to music and having dinner by (LED) candlelight, every time face to face at the dining room table. No TV, no connection to the madness, giving us time to talk about whatever was on our minds or to make a choice not to speak at all. The joy of silence has been rediscovered.

When traveling, awareness grew of many things—other people’s lives, the vastness, and beauty of this great country, of what time the sun and moon would rise and set. The environment, particularly the weather, was more tangible. Changes in heat, cold, and humidity were felt more acutely; you could hear every raindrop strike the roof, and each thunderclap felt like it was sitting in your lap.

As this chapter closes and the winter snows settle in, and we fall further and further from the warm days and golden memories of summer, we can close our eyes and sleep well, immersed in the memories of the past and dreaming about all the adventures that await us.

“Wherever you go, go with all your heart.”

-Confucius

D. Scott Sonnenburg 9/18/22 D. Scott Sonnenburg 9/18/22

Trip # 5, Wine, apples, cheese, and donuts?

Obstacles do not block the path; they are the path.

-Zen proverb

I am so glad to be writing this. We weren’t sure if there would be another one of these trips this year, but we made it happen.

A quick update regarding our bump in the road: Wanda recently completed her third course of radiation therapy. This time it was five daily treatments on her hip for a painful area where the cancer had spread. These treatments are for pain control, and thankfully, they are effective. I am happy to say she is much better, pain-wise, which allowed us to do this latest trip. And after a three-week delay due to the “business” aspect of medicine in America, she also recently started on her new medication. Like all these medications, the possible side effects are serious, but so far, so good. Fatigue, significant at times, is her primary issue.

We continue to try to be philosophical about all this. We consciously realize the value and finite nature of time and live life looking through that lens. I view such awareness as a gift, and we try to share it with others. We accept what is given to us and do everything possible to be grateful and stay in the moment. But maybe the best part of all this stuff is everything means more- sunrises, sunsets, the simple and profound joy of seeing her wake up bleary-eyed with wild hair, and being able to give her that morning hug, thanking her and God for another day together.

Fall is always bittersweet, but more so this year. On the one hand, it is my favorite season, and when I lived in more southerly climes, I went into a depression every October because I was missing it, knowing it was happening somewhere without me. It is a profoundly beautiful, spiritual, and emotional time of year. But this year, while excited to see the colors and feel the chill, I don’t want this incredible summer to end, and I find myself struggling to hold on to the living dream it so often was.

The morning of our departure, we woke up to quite a sunrise.

(Picture taken from our living room balcony).

Later, on a warm, hazy day, our first stop was Burr Oak Winery in New Lisbon, WI., about 70 miles from home.

We camped in a quiet and pleasant spot adjacent to the vineyard and next to an old barn.

We had a good time tasting wines with this couple from Georgia. We are not big wine drinkers, but we enjoyed the experience and bought a bottle of cranberry dessert wine to enjoy during the holidays.

The winery sits on a beautiful piece of property, which we were free to explore to our hearts content.

Smoke from wildfires in Montana and Idaho made for a lovely, somewhat otherworldly sunset.

In the morning, while we were packing up, the owner of the winery came out and gave us these freshly picked tomatoes and basil. We bought some farmers cheese (a soft, creamy white cheese much like mozzarella) at our next stop and made an amazing Caprese salad. The tomatoes with the orange striations were incredibly sweet and flavorful.

Our next stop was Sunrise Orchards in Gays Mills, WI.

Established in 1913 and sitting on a beautiful 225 acres, Sunrise Orchards grows 21 varieties of apples and produces 150,000 bushels of fruit per year.

We set up across the street from the store in a pretty spot on a hot and windy day. The wind was a clue that, weather-wise, things would soon be changing.

Honeycrisp was the variety primarily featured while we were there, which was great because it is our favorite.

In Door County, cherries were the focus, and here it was obviously apples. Apple butter, apple sauce, apple cider, caramel apples, etc. But I went further with some fantastic sweet pickled whole-clove garlic and locally made bacon salsa. Yep, salsa made with bacon. It’s genius! Note the barn quilt on the wall.

The fall color is just starting to become apparent out there. The orchard sits in what is known as the driftless area of Wisconsin, which in my opinion, is the prettiest part of the state, with Door County running a close second. The region was spared glaciation during the last ice age leaving it with steep and rolling hills, deep ravines, and numerous creeks and streams. Even though we will have plenty of fall colors where we live, the hilly terrain of the driftless adds another level of drama and beauty. Every time you round a corner on one of the countless twisting roads, another postcard moment presents itself, with old barns and silos tucked away into the myriad nooks and crannies, cows grazing on the green hillsides above. I don’t have many good pictures of it though; the skies were not ideal due to the smoky haze, and it’s not easy to pull over on a whim on a two-lane road with a 7000 lb. trailer to get that perfect pic. Because it is less than two hours from home, we plan on returning without the trailer this autumn to see the colors and hopefully get some good pictures.

But let's face it, this is the real reason we came- apple cider donuts. These are the only donuts we eat all year and are stupid good (they are available at any self-respecting apple orchard, of which there are many.) We only bought a half dozen because we knew we'd have probably eaten them all if we went with the full monty.

After going Homer Simpson on the donuts, Wanda got down to some postcard writing. Some people have asked what the inside of our trailer is like, so here are some pictures taken on a sunny afternoon.

It’s pretty rough out there, with a full-sized queen bed with a Serta memory foam mattress, heated recliners, a large fridge, 2 TVs, and a nice big bathroom. From the beginning I vowed that if we did this, she would be as comfortable out here as she is at home. I think we got pretty close.

This was the view out our screen door of the orchard and the rolling hills beyond. Imagine this all dressed up in fall colors. The hardwood forest was as thick and healthy as any I have seen.

This little park was right outside our door and was a perfect place for Wanda to have a long conversation with her daughter on her birthday.

As the orchard closed for the day and the parking lot emptied, clouds began to roll in.

In the morning, we awakened to cold, wind-driven rain. The temperature dropped precipitously from 85 degrees the previous day to a high of 57. Not unusual for this time of year, as summer and winter begin to battle it out in the season we call autumn, but it sure impacts the camping experience. We had some coffee, resisted the urge to buy more donuts, and drove in the pouring rain to our next stop 30 miles to the north.

Nordic Creamery, Westby, Wisconsin

We were a little disappointed to learn that this location was a retail store and that the dairy cows and production operation were located 8 miles away; we always like to see the animals and how things are done. Anyway, we set up behind some abandoned buildings that were part of an old cattle breeding complex. It had a creepy, haunted feel, made more so by the wind whistling and moaning through the empty spaces. When I mentioned this to the young woman working in the store, she said she always thought that and wouldn't go back there alone- "back there" being right where she told us to camp.

During a break in the rain, Wanda and George had great fun exploring the overgrown ruins.

The view to the west was nice and would be amazing on a bright blue sunny day.

The break in the rain was over soon enough. Here you can see a line of pouring rain coming toward us; it reached us in about 30 seconds and was torrential.

Nordic Creamery is known for its award-winning butter, available in various varieties and flavors, including this Goat Butter. It tastes like you think it would; think butter with more than a hint of goat cheese mixed in. Let’s just say it’s *interesting.*

This was the first real weather (other than passing thunderstorms, which never last long) we have had to deal with, and it revealed a weakness- solar power doesn't work that well when it is cloudy for any length of time. Our batteries were dying, and we figured they would be flat by morning, meaning we would have no fridge or heat, and it was raining too hard to put out the generator. Already wet and cold, we sat there contemplating our predicament, knowing things would worsen by morning. Having always been aware that "adventures often suck when you're having them," we decided we didn't want to participate in this particular "adventure." I remembered there was a Boondockers Welcome host nearby and decided to message him to see if he had any room at the inn, the inn being his driveway. And though he was out of town, he messaged back promptly and offered to let us stay at his place and use his power.

Jay and Cathy are their names, and this is their driveway. Amazingly, it was no more than 3 minutes from where we were. He had RV power outlets outside his garage, and we plugged in and got the heat, fridge, and TV working so Wanda could catch up on the news about the Queen's passing. Wanda loved the Queen.

The view from their driveway was not bad.

As we headed east in the direction of home, where we were going to spend a couple of nights in a campground, we happened upon this parade. Well, to be more accurate, the streets in this little town were closed for a parade, and we were stuck. We spoke to a very kind police officer who assured us there was no way around it with a rig our size. Recognizing that it's pretty challenging to execute a U-turn in a rig that is 50 ft. long, we resigned ourselves to the delay and accepted his invitation to park it and enjoy the festivities. And we are so glad we did. We would never have had this experience if we'd gone another way or chosen to sit in the truck impatiently waiting and looking at our phones. It turned out to be a lot of fun, and at times was even moving. The lesson is that good things happen when you simply take what life gives you. In a related story, Wanda loves bagpipes, George, not so much.

(Little known Royal fact- George is named after Prince George because he was rescued the day the prince was born).

There are two ways to know you are in Amish country. One is the presence of these signs. The other you can find on the road as a byproduct of using this organic form of horsepower.

It’s not every day you have an Amish buggy trying to pass you on the left.

Our truck has 375 horsepower; he has two. He managed to pass us anyway.

As is our custom, we stayed at a campground close to home for a couple of days to empty our tanks, re-supply with fresh water, and clean the trailer, getting it ready for another adventure. At this point, it doesn't look good for any more long Harvest Hosts trips this year, colder weather is not that far off, and there are just too many appointments and obligations. We hope to do some short trips to local state and county parks to immerse ourselves in the upcoming show of autumnal color, and as was said, another trip to the driftless is desired, so this year's fun is not entirely over, but it is sadly winding down.

It leaves us joyful and a tad melancholy at the same time. We are so happy we did this and thankful for all the memories, experiences, places, and people we have encountered over these short three months. We are bummed it couldn't last longer; there is so much to see and do still, and if things were different, we'd head south and keep doing it. It strikes me as analogous to life in general; we will always wish the good times, the time spent together, and our lives could last just a little longer. But we have no control over that. We do have control over getting up, getting out there, and doing something our hearts truly desire, preferably without having to become seriously ill to realize we can and should do it.

Thanks again for joining us on this journey. It has truly been an honor to document this for all of you and for us as well. I assure you, we can feel your presence.

With Love,

Scott & Wanda

Summer's going fast
Nights growing colder
Children growing up
Old friends growing older

Freeze this moment
A little bit longer
Make each sensation
A little bit stronger

Rush- Time Stand Still

D. Scott Sonnenburg 8/10/22 D. Scott Sonnenburg 8/10/22

Trip #4, Knocking on Heavens Door (County).

“The bad news is time flies. The good news is you’re the pilot.”

— Michael Altshuler

It is hard to believe we celebrated our 10th Harvest Hosts/Boondockers stay on this trip. And it is remarkable to think that we haven’t traveled farther than 170 miles from home to do any of them. We haven’t scratched the surface of what is out there in Wisconsin and beyond.

July faded into August while on this trip, and we are already sensing the weight of the coming winter as one does this far north. I like living where there are distinct seasons because it is an eminently natural way to mark the passage of time. It lends a rhythm, an inescapable unconscious awareness that hangs in the air and increases daily. All the back-to-school sales, the opening of football training camps, along with the shortening days and lengthening shadows hint at what’s to come far sooner than the leaves do. Winter, if nothing else, is great at making one value a bright warm summer all the more.

Wanda’s diagnosis had the same effect- it made us realize how finite and valuable our time together is, and this is true for all of us, diagnosis or not. Whether it is the seasons passing, a health scare, or simply living in a world that is feeling increasingly tenuous and unstable all the time, the lesson is the same. Time is a gift, and life is a gift; we must aspire to live consciously aware of these things and try not to waste either. The clock is always ticking.

(For more of my thoughts on the nature of time, please click here.)

Our first stop wasn’t in Door County at all. It was just down the road from where we live, about 16 miles away. “The Local Goat Company” located in Amherst WI., is basically a bar, only with goats. We parked at the back of the parking lot alongside the Tomorrow River.

The goats are for goat yoga. It’s very Wisconsin- you can do your yoga with goats and then go inside for a nice cold beer or Old Fashioned.

As can be seen here, they are very affectionate goats.

Our next stop was in Two Rivers to visit an old dairy farm turned alpaca ranch.

London Dairy Alpacas isn’t officially in Door County either. Instead, it sits at the base of the Door Peninsula, but that is close enough. We parked in a nice grassy field amongst some fine silver maples and oaks.

The late afternoon sun added a nice glow to the trees, grass, and the adjacent soybean field.

It was a bit windy that evening, can you tell?

In the morning, we were given a lengthy and detailed tour of the farm and now consider ourselves alpaca experts. It concluded with feeding some of the new moms and their babies.

This sweet little thing was about as friendly as your average Labrador Retriever. She just wanted to be scratched and loved. The staff bottle-fed her from birth after her mom abandoned her, and she’s imprinted on humans more than your average alpaca. Wanda wanted to take her home.

These are the awards from just one of their prize alpacas.

After a beautiful morning spent with the alpacas, it was time to move north about 75 miles to our next adventure. Knowing this, George assumed his usual position as navigator.

Now, on to Door County. Known as "the Cape Cod of the Midwest," Door County is a peninsula jutting about 80 miles into Lake Michigan. Consequently, it has a distinctly nautical feel. Famous for its cherries as much as anything, it is one of my top two favorite regions of the state.

Our first Door County stop was Waseda Farms in Bailey’s Harbor, a 500-acre organic and grass-fed beef farm, market, and garden.

After checking in, I was surprised (and delighted) to be directed a half mile down the highway to this dirt road. Our campsite is out there somewhere.

This was the best and most private campsite we have had. It looks like Wanda likes it.

I loved this store. The “Home of Holy Cows” sign refers to the fact this land was worked by Jesuit priests for nearly 50 years.

We constructed several delicious meals with farm-fresh organic food bought here. When we know we are going to places like this we plan accordingly to utilize what they have to offer.

This goat got a little rowdy with Wanda as she tried to feed it.

Tranquility.
The yellow/green thing is our little generator, which in this application is used for only one thing, making Wanda her morning coffee. We run on solar powered batteries for everything else. Note our new compass rose spare tire cover.

Wanda doing exactly what I wanted. Relaxing and sending postcards to the grandkids. Oh yeah, and eating a cookie. This picture makes my heart smile.

We went back to the store in the morning to tour their wonderful garden.

It was a perfect morning, with perfect weather, and the garden was positively alive with bumblebees, butterflies, dragonflies, and birds. All was right with the world.

Wanda took George on a final walk before we reluctantly headed out. Some (most, if I’m honest) of these places make you want to linger a while; they leave a little mark on your soul.

Next, we moved to a traditional campground in Ellison Bay. We had a few days without any Harvest Hosts stays scheduled, so we set up camp here, unhitched the trailer, and went to explore the rest of the peninsula.

Walking on the main drag in Bailey’s Harbor. Flowers, flowers everywhere.

The hydrangeas in front of this house in Bailey’s Harbor completely obscured the front door.

*A portrait in blue.*
This is Lake Michigan, or more specifically Green Bay. Two things are quickly apparent- the bay isn’t very green at all, and in addition to sharing the name with the greatest football team in the world, it sure is pretty!

Peninsula State Park is the most popular state park in Wisconsin, for obvious reasons.

Cherry heaven. This is one small part of Koepsel’s, a huge farmer's market in this location since 1958. Every kind of olive, pickle, jam, salsa, and anything else you can put in a jar was for sale here, much of it cherry flavored. Most of it is canned on-site.

Road art like this is everywhere in Wisconsin.

This is Al Johnson’s Swedish Restaurant and Butik in Sister Bay, and yes, those are live goats on the sod roof.

You have to admit, that is one handsome goat.

There are few things more relaxing than sitting in the warm sun with a nice breeze coming off the water, watching the birds and sailboats pass by.

Our final stop on this trip was at About Thyme Farm, again in Bailey’s Harbor.

About Thyme Farm (great name) is a wedding and special event venue and also a small organic farm selling mostly to local farmers markets.

We parked at the edge of a large grass field next to the garden.

This is a barn quilt. A form of folk-art, they are all over farm country and some are quite elaborate and beautiful. They have varied and unique meanings.

This gives a nice perspective of where we camped. The small tracks you see are from workers moving freshly picked vegetables from the garden to the barn be trimmed, cleaned and bundled for sale.

The foundational walls of the barn demonstrate its age.

We were here on a Friday, harvest day for the coming weekend farmers market. This young couple worked picking vegetables until dark.

I couldn’t stop looking at and taking pictures of this wheat field as it moved in the wind and changed with the light. It was endlessly fascinating for some reason.

I was cooking when Wanda came rushing in and said, “give me your phone.” I gave it to her, and she took this picture while walking George. She said the light was amazing, and she was right.

This is a sign we put up just inside the door. It is very true.

And so ends trip #4. Thanks for reading.
*Some days my heart is a photograph and some days a song. I want to thank all of you for sharing our journey and for simply coming along.*
With so much love to all.
-Scott

D. Scott Sonnenburg 7/16/22 D. Scott Sonnenburg 7/16/22

Trip # 3, Horses, Cows And Hogs, oh my!

Not all storms come to disrupt your life; some come to clear your path.

-Unknown

Well, summer rolls on, mostly hot and humid- thunderstorms were with us for three of the five nights of this trip. But that’s summer in the Midwest; sometimes hot and sticky, constantly changing, night skies so often decorated with flashes of light from lightning and fireflies, the smell of sunscreen, bug spray, and campfire smoke mixing in a familiar blend. This trip consisted of four stops in five days, a whirlwind of people, animals, and places, and we found ourselves quickly making friends and memories as the miles accumulated.

We started our latest adventure on a bright sunny afternoon at Aspire Ranch near Merrill, Wisconsin.

We were met by the owner Kristin and were directed to park in a nice grassy and level spot next to the horses.

This old schoolhouse now serves as an antique and gift shop selling artwork, soaps, clothing, cards, and refreshments.

Here are two of the three horses we met at Aspire Ranch- Bella, a Friesian mare on the left, and Digger, a Quarter Horse gelding on the right.

Digger and Bella getting in their daily exercise.

And as the hot and bright day cooled into a soft and pleasant dusk, we were offered a special treat.

What are the chances we would meet a Dulcimer player at a horse ranch in the middle of rural Wisconsin? Cal, another Harvest Host guest, offered to play for us. He was good, and it turned out to be a pretty special evening.

Live music behind an old schoolhouse under an old oak tree, this is what I’d hoped Harvest Hosts would be—unique and unexpected experiences breathing life into life.

It was a special night. The beautiful music, my beautiful wife, a beautiful sunset and even our rig in the background to give context, it was one of those nights when it all came together.

Here is a better picture of the sunset behind us during the performance. It was one of those times in life that felt timeless, meant to be, and almost choreographed, yet it was about as far from planned as can be, which made it all the more special.

The next morning dawned cool and crisp but warmed quickly into a beautiful mid-summer day.

Digger and his bigger buddy, Gus, a 2000 lb. Belgian Draft Horse.

Giving Digger some love with Adam, one of the owners of the ranch.

Look at that size difference—what an impressive beast Gus is.

George looked on with indignation when he couldn’t participate in the activities.

Beautiful, elegant, regal, grand, majestic…all of the above.

And so closes another HH visit, again with a great sunset. If possible, I have made it my mission to get a sunset pic from every locale we visit. I’ve been lucky so far.

Our next stop was about 50 miles to the southeast. Cedar Creek Ranch is a small grass-fed beef farm that also raises and sells pasture-raised pork, goat, and lamb. In addition, there were geese, turkeys, chickens, and rabbits running all around; it was quite a menagerie. But even with all that to see, the weather would steal the show at this location.

Country road, take me home—the street scene in front of Cedar Creek Ranch.

We set up on a hill next to some hay wagons with a great view of an expansive, freshly cut hay field.

Wanda, holding court with two girls who live here, and George, of course. These kids were an absolute hoot- friendly, curious, and anything but shy. They were so eager to share their world with us. Notice the lack of shoes on the younger one, Charlie. She ran around the farm barefoot the whole time, which I can’t imagine. She looks pretty comfortable in my chair, which she casually commandeered when I wasn’t looking.

Wanda has taken up painting rocks as a hobby, and she leaves one at every stop, making an even exchange if she can find any paintable rocks in the vicinity. At Cedar Creek Ranch, she let Charlie pick one out for herself, which made her so happy she ran home to show it off. I think it’s pretty cool Wanda is leaving a part of herself at various locales throughout the upper Midwest.

This guy seemed to know we’d just purchased some delicious grass-fed rib eyes from the onsite store.

After a hot and sunny afternoon, storm clouds began to gather.

We made dinner, got cozy, and watched the show from the safety of the trailer.

A couple of hours before this storm, the owner told me how a tornado had cut a path right through her property just a few weeks earlier, damaging a barn. After some discussion, we figured out it was likely the same tornado that just missed us on our very first night camping in West Salem, over 150 miles away.

For some time, I stood amongst the distant booms and flashes and swirling wind, gazing up at the atmosphere so fiercely in motion. It was awesome in the truest sense of the word.

After an intense but short-lived storm, the clouds parted, creating yet another incredible sunset.

As we lay down to sleep, a still calm returned to the land as if nothing had happened.

With our next stop only 40 miles away, we had time in the morning to get some fuel, water, and ice in the nearby town of Wittenberg, the home of world-famous Nueske’s smoked meats. A family-owned business since 1933, if you can name it, they have probably smoked it.

Wanda in the Nueske’s gift shop, perusing the many goods made from the owner's alpaca herd. She didn't buy anything because we hope to visit an alpaca farm soon. Looking around in little shops like this is her happy place; because of that, it is mine too.

RV’s have come a long way since Bob built his “Fancy Camper”.

So, for our next stop, something a little different. Doc’s Timeline Saloon, BBQ, Harley Davidson dealer, classic car museum, art gallery, and zoo in Bonduel, Wisconsin, just west of Green Bay.

Remember, I did say it was a little different.

Instead of being surrounded by nature, we camped in a driveway in front of one of the garages on the property. I must admit I did a heck of a job backing that sucker in there. More heavy thunderstorms were forecast, so being on a solid surface was not a bad thing. It was so hot.

This bison was eyeballing me the whole time as I set up the camper. One of two Doc keeps on the property; he was no more than 25 yards away. Imposing for sure, but also beautiful.

Eclectic might be the best descriptor of this place and the man who created it.

For our last stop, we stayed overnight in a traditional campground. We like to end these adventures where we can empty our tanks (ala Christmas Vacation) and refill with water if necessary. And with full hook-ups, it is nice to have all the comforts of home for an evening.

This was a pretty little campground near Shawano. You can almost feel how hot and humid it is with the thunderheads developing in the distance.

This is not a high-quality image, but I thought with all that is going on in the world, which we so easily (and thankfully) forget about when we do these trips, a full rainbow over a peace sign would be an apropos way to conclude this blog entry.
Our love to all.

D. Scott Sonnenburg 7/6/22 D. Scott Sonnenburg 7/6/22

Trip #2, Boondockers!

Life is a journey to be experienced, not a problem to be solved.

-Winnie the Pooh

This post will be quick and mostly pictures. We took a hastily planned 5-day trip with two stops, less than 50 miles from home, mainly to keep working out the bugs. This time we used another aspect of the Harvest Hosts (HH) platform, called "Boondockers Welcome" (BW). It is similar to HH with one significant distinction; these places are people's homes and private property, not businesses. There are 3100 BW sites nationwide, ranging from driveways in residential neighborhoods for smaller rigs to multi-acre farms like where we stayed. The "stays" are 100% free, but it is not uncommon to leave a gift of some sort, especially if they supply water and electricity, which many do. The hosts are primarily long-time campers who want to meet new and often interesting people- like us!

Our first stop was outside Fremont, Wisconsin, 40 miles east of home. We parked in a quiet field on a beautiful 60-acre farm owned by two of the nicest people who have lived there for over 40 years. Steve and Beth are their names, and you immediately knew Steve could fix anything without expecting anything in return, and Beth could make the pot roast of your dreams on a Sunday evening and finish it with some unforgettable apple pie. Something about this place and the people felt “out of time.” This is the America we seek out and love, a seemingly bygone era but still very much alive. I am happy to say we made friends with these people, and we will be back.

This was our front yard for two days. In the distance, you can see the knee-high corn growing.

On our first night, we went down to the river in the nearby town of Fremont to have dinner and watch the local waterski show, but it turned out to be too windy for them to perform. But that didn’t stop Wanda from having her Blue Moon with a slice of orange.

When we sold our house, we gave up having a yard for living in an apartment. But we didn’t lose much as long as we could travel to places like this and borrow someone else’s yard. Plus, I don’t have to mow it.

George seems to be enjoying his new lifestyle.

Sunset, putting to bed another wonderful day.

When our time in Fremont was over, we traveled 15 miles west to our next stop, a hilltop piece of property outside of the town of Waupaca that was supposed to be all about the sunsets.

The vegetation on this property was thick, and quite healthy. It appears vaguely Amazonian from this perspective.

Wanda relaxing on a warm summer day with nothing within earshot but the rustle of the leaves and the birds singing their song. This is a good shot of our awning, which I can deploy and retract with my phone. Crazy.

The view from our campsite. No sign of man, just the way I like it.

There was no sunset the first night due to thunderstorms, but the second night was not disappointing.
We are starting to learn that the people we meet will be as interesting as the places we visit, maybe more. Our next adventure will be fun, and we are leaving this Friday morning. First, two days at a horse farm, then on to a natural pasture-raised cattle, pig, and goat farm, and then we finish it off with a visit to a (locally) famous BBQ restaurant and bar that also happens to be a Harley Davidson dealership, classic car and Harley museum, art gallery (the owner is a metal-sculptor), and zoo. It should be interesting. Thanks for reading!

D. Scott Sonnenburg 6/19/22 D. Scott Sonnenburg 6/19/22

Let the fun begin.

The first step in getting somewhere is to decide you are not going to stay where you are.

-Unknown

After many years of dreaming and talking about it, we finally did it. We bought a truck and a travel trailer. We started our adventure on June 14th, 2022, when we picked the trailer up at Coulee Region RV Center in West Salem, WI., a few miles east of the Mississippi River and the Minnesota border. In keeping with my inevitable luck with such things, it was the hottest June 14th ever recorded in Wisconsin, 97 degrees with high humidity, which gave us a “real feel” temperature of about 110 degrees. It was very “Florida” that day.

Jerome, Arizona

The Selfless Heart