The fence by our temporary home is adorned with sun disks, which keep an eye on the patio. Most of the leaves have dropped from the post oaks.
Note: We’re regrouping. For starters, we want to assure our readers that we’re OK. Since March we have been careful with our social distancing and limiting unnecessary outings, and we’ve been fortunate to avoid contracting this terrible Covid virus.
We are fortunate that members of our families, some more vulnerable than others, are also in good health. We appreciate all the sacrifices that health care workers and many other people are making to keep our country running.
You may be wondering: Where did TQN go? We didn’t intend to be absent so long, but three months flash by in a hurry. I’m sure we could come up with a list of reasons (excuses), but those don’t seem all that important right now. Even though we haven’t posted since our summer in South Dakota, we have a few places and experiences to tell you about while we are hunkering down someplace warm.
Wise County, Texas
This week we’re on pause 45 minutes northwest of Fort Worth, where the camper is in the shop for some repairs and maintenance. We’re hoping the cost isn’t too steep. The fragility of campers is a topic for another day.
We’re enjoying a week in a small house outside a small town. It doesn’t look like your typical farm house, and we figured out it was the former roadside office of a chiropractor. I’m writing this in what must have been one of the rooms where hundreds of spines, shoulders and other joints were adjusted. You could also imagine the room's many conversations about the weather, local and state politics or the Dallas Cowboys.
The doc, who died three years ago at the age of 80, lived in a house about 100 yards away. Richard, his son, told me about his father’s practice. Richard and his wife Allison own the place and converted it into a charming little bungalow.
We’re surrounded by rolling hills carved into acreages and small ranches. There are pastures and cactus and groves of post oak trees. A few oil well pumps are scattered across the area. Big gates on the county roads (all paved) open to a few new and impressive ranch properties and homes that show some decades of wear and tear. Situated in commuting distance of DFW, this is a place of growth.
We’re along a main artery into the nearby town of Bridgeport, and pickups roar by with regularity.
But when they aren’t, calm falls over the grove of post oaks across the fence from the small sandy back yard. About midmorning, a flock of chickens come out of their pen to scratch among the leaves for bugs. The fence is adorned with sun disks, and it appears they are watching us as we have our morning coffee on the covered patio.
This mid-November weather is more like September up north, except with the sun sinking behind the hills about 5:30. Saturday's high was in the 80s, but Sunday morning reminded us of the change ahead, with northerly winds dropping the temperature to the 40s.
Our plan is to rest and prepare for moving again, most likely along the coast, if we can find the right spot. So far, Covid hasn’t been a major hindrance for our travels, but we’ll have to be extra cautious during this nationwide surge in cases.
Angie is adept at searching for places to stay and possibly work, while my tasks include riding my bike, shooting some photos, writing and feeding the fish at the nearby pond. We have needed a week like this since we’ve been moving an average of once a week since mid September.
The owners provide a little bucket of fish food by the pond, so every day about 4 p.m. I’ve been on the dock, feet dangling, tossing pellets into the water.
Five ducks call the pond home, so when any human approaches the dock and the fish food, they waddle into position mid-pond and beg. Richard and Allison have a great setup: People pay to stay in their house AND feed their fish.
The resident ducks provide afternoon entertainment and steal the fish food.
The ducks have a safety zone about 8 feet from the dock, and that is as close as they’ll come to snap up the pellets from the water.
The pond recently had a die-off, so the owners restocked it with fingerlings. (It’s not like feeding the fish back at Bob’s pasture pond in Kansas. The big cats are more entertaining.)
The water boils as the fish dart and nibble at the pellets, which are too big for their mouths.
The ducks are the main show. It doesn’t take much to entertain me when I have fish food, ducks and my cell phone camera.
I hit the record button on hyperlapse and toss a few pellets to the left and keep the ducks in the frame. When the lead duck has reached the pellets, I toss pellets to the other side, so they have to turn and paddle about 20 feet.
After about a minute and a half of this, I have 12 seconds of ducks speeding left, right, left, right. Finally, a couple of the ducks figure out they’re being toyed with, and they stay in the middle.
It’s good enough for a chuckle and a break from world’s turmoil and nonsense.
On Thursday, I had just emptied the little of box of pellets when Richard walked up to pick up the empty box. He kept his distance and told me he still had a couple hours of work until he was done staffing the phone for his employer, an insurance company.
A conversation about the RV lifestyle ensued. He’s turning 64 and just put in his notice to retire. He said he has worked from home since March, and the company wouldn’t be returning staffers to the central office. He didn’t feel the same passion for the job that he had years ago.
“You were the hero showing up with the money,” I said, recalling those times when our own insurance had kicked in following some catastrophe.
The camper questions followed. He had the same model of pickup, a Ford F150, so he wanted to know how it pulled the camper. He said Allison’s career with an airline allowed them to travel the world. Now they were going to escape the Texas summer heat and see the country.
It was good to chat with a stranger, especially since he asked about our experiences. The question that caught my attention was one we’ve heard a time or two: What kind of people do you run into among other people who are on the road.
I took this as: “Do you run into a lot of jerks pulling campers into your campground?”
I told him 99 percent of RVers we meet are friendly and they are inclined to mind their own business. We’ve met a few we didn’t care for, but then we usually know our acquaintance will be temporary.
Most are ready to help fellow travelers who may be having a vehicle or camper problem.
Richard went back to his computer and phone, and I went back to our house. I thought, gee I haven’t gushed that many words at another person for a heck of a long time. It’s a sign of the quarantine times.
I still have a couple duck feeding sessions and bike rides before we leave.
We’ll get our camper back, hopefully with the bigger issues resolved, and we’ll wait for another appointment, perhaps in January, for some things that can need to be ordered.
And in the meantime, we’re going as far south of 32 degrees Fahrenheit as we can go, at least for a month or so.
Cirrus clouds provide some color at sunset. North Texas and areas to the west are in the midst of a drought, so people around here would like to see the thunderheads they usually see in the fall.
Stay tuned for a recap of our fall stopovers in places which may strike your interest.
Also, if you have some favorite places in Texas or anywhere in the southwest, let us know about them. You can send an email to larry@thirdquarternomads.com. We’d really like to hear from you, even if it is just to say hello.
Share our blog with your friends. We’d like to have them join us too.
Finally, let’s help our communities and our healthcare workers turn the corner on this pandemic while a while a vaccine can be developed and delivered. Remember, this isn't going to last forever.
Be safe. We’re all in this together.
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