We’ve been home for a few days now. We returned to the west coast loaded with new memories, suitcases full of homemade apple butter, buckwheat flour from Maine, and dirty clothes, and a newfound respect and awe for this country we call home. We experienced more adventures, met more friends, and dreamed more dishes than we could possibly ever write down. What we didn’t have —— it became clear after a few days —— was the time to write a post every day, about every potluck, documenting this road trip we’ll never forget. After the piece I wrote about the Hudson Valley potluck, I looked up at the green fields of Vermont as we sped past them in our blue minivan, and I realized I wanted to wait until we were home to write up these moments.
Today, we just started feeling as though we live in this time zone again. It’s time to write. Let’s go.