SCOUTING: PART ONE

Today we visited our first contender from my epic list of properties. It was lovely—an Airbnb with charm and polish, perfect for weekenders chasing quiet. But we’re not weekenders. We’re dreamers with dirt under our nails and roots waiting to be planted.

We learned a lot. The land was over ten acres, but shaped like a skinny ribbon—deep, not wide. No good for gardening. It hadn’t been cleared much, and the woods felt more wild than welcoming. Sure, land can be cleared. But it has to hold enough magic to make you want to.

And then there were the pump jacks. Multiple. Active. Nodding like mechanical metronomes. I tried to see past them. I really did. But one of my goals is to live a healthier life, and growing food in the wake of oil pumps doesn’t fit the bill. Soil remembers. So do lungs.

Still, there was beauty. American Beautyberry grew wild and generous, dotting the landscape with purple promise. Daisy and Luna chased the wind. Rob took it all in with his builder’s eye. I watched, half in love, half in retreat.

On the drive home, I suggested we get matching tattoos of a little RV. Rob declared couples tats the death knell of a marriage, and we laughed until our sides hurt—while eating McDonald’s in the car. What was that I said about a healthier lifestyle? Tomorrow. We’ll get back on that bus tomorrow.

And tonight? Tonight the wind is howling and thunderstorms are expected around midnight. I never considered weather when we planned to live in an RV. It was Summer in Texas—dry, sunny, predictable. Now I’m wondering how I’ll sleep. I can hear water lapping against the rocks outside, and the wind tugging at the edges of our little home on wheels. It's more than a little disconcerting.

This is just the beginning of the search. The messy, magical middle continues. Still, I'm proud of us for getting out and giving it a look. It would have been very easy to tuck in for the night.

Next up: A house built in 1895, creaking with stories and charm. Tomorrow we hit the road—Arkansas bound, coffee in hand, dogs in tow, hearts wide open. The road is calling again. Let’s see what she has to say.