Since many of my blog followers are wondering, and it’s obvious I’m back because my VW’s in the driveway, I’ll quickly recap my recent experiment regarding the search for solitude.

What I learned in my two weeks in the tiny cabin:

It really can rain 14 days in a row.

Reading, then burning, two boxes of journals felt like a healthy thing to do. Now there is only the future.

The only journal entries I couldn’t burn were those that talked about my sons, parents, and siblings.

You can live with very little “stuff,” but there’s something about a bit of alcohol on the porch in the early evening that makes it all worthwhile.

I am the same person coming out the woods as I was going in. No big revelations, but many confirmations.

My cell phone didn’t work in the woods. Yes!!

I went into Viroqua almost every day (cold, damp, and hunger issues).

What I learned as a stranger in a small town:

It’s true – everyone wants to know what you’re doing there.

I have a keen ability for singling out the most interesting folks for conversation.

Everyone in Viroqua is smiling, friendly, and courteous; quite puzzling until it’s suggested to you that everyone grows their own in them thar hills.

Viroqua citizens represent a segment of every type of race, religion, lifestyle, background you can imagine. Hippie types (middle-age and older) stood out to me for whatever reason. Also a big Amish community. Many are imports because of the Waldorf school that’s been there since 1980. (Wiki “Waldorf Schools”). Many are Norwegian-farmer native types. Many are intellectual and creative.

There seems to be emphasis on organics and supporting your neighborhood businesses.

By the time I left, I was likely to run into a new friend wherever I went. Places I frequented: The Driftless Café, the Food Co-op, Cheese Corner (unbelievable subs for cheap), Curves, the library, and a couple of bookstores.

Let’s talk about the term “driftless” in my next blog.

If books burn at Fahrenheit 451, I wonder how hot my campfire needed to be to burn 50 years of journal pages, mostly uncrumpled, in the rain.