There's a story my dad tells my sister and me about his grandmother spying him listening to the engine coming through the hollow. As it goes, my young father was standing in the field listening wistfully to a train as its sound echoed off the boulders in the rolling hills, when his grandmother wandered over to where he was standing. "You'll never be happy, honey," she said in her Appalachian drawl, "you've got the gypsy in your soul."
Though the three of us (my sister, my dad, myself) all giggle at this vote of discouragement, we all know it to be true.
And, we all know that I inherited high hips, a weak stomach, and this gypsy soul from him.
Luckily, I married a man who has the nomad spirit, too. Even today, the guy and I were traveling back from our little outing with our dearest friends, when we succumbed to our wanderlust and turned off the GPS, hoping to "get lost.". .
Sooner than we thought, we started to recognize the roads
Meandering through Shepherdstown and Martinsburg
(Blue White Cafe is in my top 10 hole in the wall diners, by the way)
Hiking through Harpers Ferry
The Panhandle of West Virginia is a sliver of Appalachia with a half dozen charmers within minutes from eachother
"Just one more hill, babe, lets see what's over that hill."