FloydFest was just as enjoyable as we had hoped -- more so. Jonas loved all the music and, with the exception of one very brief nap, spent seven hours dancing - in his stroller, on our shoulders, in the grass. Dancing, dancing, dancing. His ability to find a rhythm after only a few bars of a song just astounds me. He must be on dozens of cameras; every time I turned around someone else was taking a picture of him. The Duhks even noticed him waving his arms back and forth while he sat on his daddy's shoulders. Our little extrovert. Incredible.
Floyd is every bit as beautiful as I remember it. The elevation is nearly four times that of Charlottesville, which sits in a valley. This means you can see a lot further from the top of a hill around Floyd. Growing up in Iowa, where you can see for miles upon miles in every direction, I find that I crave that kind of vantage point. Living in the foothills or among the trees is nice, but I need to be able to see some distance, otherwise my brain feels muddled. I spent two years in Vermont feeling like I couldn't think straight. And one of the main reasons we bought our little fixer-upper in Belmont is because of the view of Monticello, Brown and Carter Mountains out our back door.
But, as is my tendency, I remain unsatisfied. I want to see even more. Ideally, I'd like to be able to watch the sunset without feeling like I'm missing some significant part of it because it dropped behind a mountain range or hill.
But that's a really minor thing. What is far more alluring about Floyd is the mix of folks there. Born-and-bred, transplants, aging Hippies, new-age Hippies, back-the-the-landers -- all represented in Floyd County. And yet, everyone is so darn friendly to one another, and to strangers. There is some kind of simpatico that has developed there that makes it the most comfortable tiny town (population 450) I've ever stepped foot in.
We were last in Floyd in September 2006. We thought it was beautiful. We thought the vibe and the mix of people was exceptional. We toyed with the idea of settling down there. But, it is rural, there isn't a strong economy and we didn't feel ready to start our own business, or whatever we would have to do to make a living in a place like that. And, we found our little house in Charlottesville, which was just meant for us, and the rest is history.
But our trip last weekend proved that the pull toward Floyd and all it represents remains strong. Despite how much we love Charlottesville. Despite how much we adore our little house. Despite all of our friends. Despite everything we envisioned when we bought and then renovated our place -- the images we've had of how we might expand it, the love and time we've devoted to making a nest for ourselves. Despite it all, a feeling lurks that there is Something Else out there for us.
So this week I slowly churned through this new feeling. The vision of the homestead up on the backbone of the Blue Ridge. Among the eclectic mix that comprises that community. With our own businesses. A different house. Potentially chickens and goats. Land. Country life.
But leaving Charlottesville. Leaving our beloved house. Leaving our friends. How could we think of such a thing? Why not be content with what we have? Why look for anything else?
I half-hoped I could answer this conundrum before writing something here, but it hasn't happened. And I don't think it will any time soon. For now, it is something to chew on, to roll around and around in my mind until it is smooth and familiar and I feel I understand its dimensions. And the correct path comes into focus.
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