Am I a nomad?

Not a nomad. To be a nomad, I would be part of a community that moves about the land. What about a leaf blowing across the land trying to reach the point where the wind can no longer displace it? Maybe. Although I have made conscious decisions with each move. I like to think it is following my instincts. Those that still keep handwritten address books learned long ago to use pencil for me. I can only imagine that the paper is getting worn out or that they have abandoned hope of keeping my current mailing address.

As I walked today, I acknowledged that I crave a piece of land I can call my own. I don't mean a place that only I can access. I'm happy for anyone to walk across it (respectfully) and to share it with animals. A place I could return to any time I needed. No one could turn me away and that I would not be imposing on anyone. That the only authority I would have to answer to would be the government.

But where? It must be a place I can grow. I mean plants. But maybe, subconsciously, I also mean me. And there are more qualities. I am searching. Because I do feel a bit like that leaf in the wind.

The photo is the winter remnants of wildflower from last summer (in the Umbellifers family).