Because The World Is Wide

I grew up nomadic, and autumn never fails to bring out the wayfarer in me. I've quoted this poem before, but it's even more poignant now that years have passed. Of its several quatrains these are the ones that resonate:

"There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir; 
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name." --Bliss Carman, A Vagabond Song (https://www.bartleby.com/104/24.html)

For a long time I've wanted a gypsy wagon (in Romani a vardo) to transform into a writing retreat. I found the dream version, pictured below, on Pinterest. The red hat on the left above the tea table brings to memory last week's visit with a dear friend who wore a similar chapeau as we sat under the deck umbrella on a perfect cloudless Thursday afternoon, sipping Aperol Spritzes, nibbling snacks, exchanging long-delayed birthday presents (we're both Virgos, the same age, and love odd pretty things) and reminiscing about our decades-long, always-joyous association. I can imagine us taking tea in that picture, with perhaps a dainty crystal glass of Chambord or St. Germain on the side. Wishing everyone the joy of knowing someone for many years, always surprised by new shimmering facets.