I’m home. Virginia will always be the place I call home. After spending the past week and a half in New Hampshire over Thanksgiving, followed by a frantic search for housing in Portsmouth, I am home to mentally and physically prepare for the move.
It was good to wake up again on the North River in Gloucester. Mornings in Virginia begin the same way they have since last spring after I accidentally trapped and transported a Carolina Wren home in my camera bag when photographing on Gwenn’s Island. The wren has appeared outside my office window each morning since then giving me the sweetest wake-up call. Some might say he is simply being territorial but I like to think it’s for me.
House hunting in Portsmouth was hectic and tiring but tolerable because my daughter and son-in-law bore much of the burden of calling, searching and driving me from place to place. Not a thing worked out in Portsmouth so we began to venture to small towns surrounding the city to search for rental properties. And we saw them all…. from third floor condos to townhouses to restored historic to the one we finally selected… a saltbox in Durham NH located on a knoll above a vast salt marsh and pasture land.
Although we are close to salt water, it is a much different setting from our Virginia home where we are surrounded by trees and gardens. This quaint Durham home has minimum plantings and overlooks a vista appearing more like a scene from Wuthering Heights. Standing on the knoll looking over the treeless grassland, brisk winds swirling, I also wonder if I’ll hear the hound of the Baskervilles running over the moor in the dark of a winter night.
There is a certain beauty in the grassy landscape and I am excited about exploring, discovering and learning about the habitat and the plants and creatures that exist in this seemingly inhospitable climate. I’m sure a whole new world awaits me.