Blue highway dreams

I'm watching the sky pile up with dark grey clouds, and thinking about road trips, or, more specifically, about my dream of road trips. I have driven several odometers into their second infancy (where everything starts at 0 again), and logged mile after mile getting to where I was going to sing. It's been great for the most part, and what wasn't great, once endured, was changed by the alchemy of time into funny stories.

I still have two road dreams, though, that have not yet come true. The first involves the conveyance. The first time I ever saw the interior of a gypsy caravan, I was smitten. I have swooned over Basque sheepherder trailers, too, and the teeny Airstreams. What would it be like to have everything important in a little home that can move, that can be in one place for a while and then, poof!, somewhere else? Would I then feel every night what I feel when I come home after gigging and sleeping in bunkhouses or hotels or dorms, that there is no bed as sweet as my own bed? I have restlessness in my blood as deep as the yearning for home is in my bones. Might a little moving house give me balance? I have no idea, but here is a tiny little home sweet home to dream about. Thanks, Karla at Educational Heretic for calling it to my attention.

The other dream is older still, and it's in lots of songs. The best in-a-nutshell version is one of Joni Mitchell's happy songs, Night Ride Home. She sings, I love the man beside me / we love the open road... Once in a while, in a big blue moon, there comes a night like this...

And then the road goes on forever.