Living Like a Tree

Lessons from a year on the road

Oct 31, 2025

I love metaphors, as many of you who read my Substack know. This one, “living like a tree” seems very appropriate now. Our cross country adventure started on September 22nd of last year. When we embarked, we believed we were leaving our life in Colorado in search of a new home. Perhaps, the coastal Atlantic seaboard or the inland mountains of the Carolinas. Or maybe the shores of the Pacific in Oregon. As we traversed through 15 states, there were a handful of locations where we asked ourselves, could we live here? Always, after a few days or maybe a week, we realized the answer was no, for different reasons. In Reston Virginia, as I wrote about last, our stay was meant to be a time of rest and rejuvenation after our 8 month trek across the country. But mold intervened and chased us out of our apartment and then out of the area as we came to the realization that humid climates did not suit our constitutions.

We got back in the RV and headed west, back to Colorado, driving 2,200 miles in a short 21 days. We did enjoy the journey despite it being under a bit of duress. We hadn’t planned on leaving Reston until December and had reservations for the winter in South Florida by the ocean. After several long discussions we decided that where we lived, even for a few months had to be in dry climates. So the answer was easy. Back home to dry Colorado. We considered Arizona for the winter but knew we couldn’t stay there after April (TOO HOT) so we decided to come home.

Traversing the US along Interstate 40 had never been on our agenda. But it was the shortest and fastest way back to Colorado. And it did take us through Nashville and Mephis and a few beautiful lakeside campgrounds in Arkansas and Oklahoma, which were unexpected surprises. We arrived back a few short days ago and the joy was almost instantaneous as we crossed the border from New Mexico into Colorado. The beauty of the landscape and the feel of the air lifted our spirits and nurtured our physical bodies. We’ve only been here 5 days now, but I can say that my body feels happy in this place.

We’re settled into a beautiful campground in Durango, surrounded by red cliffs and the yellows and golds of Fall foliage season. It’s good to be home. And we’ve rented a home for the next 6 months while we look for a place to buy next year.

So here’s the reason for the metaphor. Looking back over the last year, we’ve experienced many different types of living environments. They’ve all been great in some ways. Despite the horror of the moldy apartment, I did enjoy experiencing city life in Reston for a short while. Other cities like Charleston were also wonderful. Even San Antonio and Austin had some redeeming aspects. But they’ve all been uncomfortable and unhealthy (at least one) at times. In the future, visiting cities will be done with great care, perhaps staying in hotels and walking everywhere. And NOT overstaying our welcome when it becomes overwhelming.

So the lesson I’ve learned is that I should live like a tree. Put my roots down and let them be firmly planted to the earth. Get my nutrients from my home and feed myself every day. But also stretch my branches out to the sky, reaching for sustenance from all directions and feeling the sun on my face, taking in it’s nourishment too. We will continue to travel in the RV. We’ll visit State and National Parks. We’ll lay on the beach by the oceans. We’ll visit cities, big and small. We’ll be alone in forests and surrounded by people in cities. And it will all be good. But we’ll always have our home to come back to, often, to nourish and cultivate the roots that sustain us. Without that we can not thrive, like a tree does.

We hope to head to the West coast next summer and maybe up the Pacific coast. But it won’t be for more than 2-3 months. That’s our limit now. Otherwise our roots may start to atrophy and our trunks will weaken. We’ll drink in the nourishment of the sun on our leaves but make sure not to let them burn. Then back home to recuperate. It’s been a wonderful year and I wouldn’t change it, even if I could because I’ve learned a valuable lesson I hope to carry for the rest of my life. Stay grounded in one place while also reaching for the sky and nourishment from places beyond your roots.