This was not the plan.

Moving to Vermont and renting a room in a house with a couple of guys and a couple of cats.

Shopping for snowshoes and snowtires.

Going to work at an outdoor preschool.

Ten years ago, I planned to graduate college and teach in Missouri. Four years ago, I planned to move to North Carolina. One year ago, I planned to move to Arizona. Two months ago, I drove into Vermont for the first time in the midst of a minor snowstorm…and I literally booked an AirBnB on the way (while parked in a New Hampshire coffeeshop). Definitely didn’t expect to get a job and move back up here.

But here we are.

As I settle in, I’m trying to figure out what I “want” from this newest adventure.

The past six or so months have been spent wandering. And while I think I’m ready to be still for a minute, I’m a little worried that I’ll get antsy.

I’m living in a town where I can walk from one end to the other in about 20 minutes. Last week, I got a library card and did some work in the upstairs space that overlooked a snow-covered field. And I got breakfast in one of the small bakery/coffeeshops in town (not the best breakfast sandwich…but a solid effort).

I’ve wandered around the tiny town and found a near-by trail…frequented by cross-country skiers this time of year. I’ve done research into skis, snow shoes, and everything in between.

And now I’m itching for something new.

Between yoga this morning in the nearby “city” and the sourdough starter I’m trying to charm into existence, I’m sure I can keep myself busy.

But what if I can’t scratch the itch to wander?

This is an adventure in being still.

(Well…a little still. I have the Adirondacks to the west, the Whites to the east and the Green Mountains to the south. This might be okay.)