2025 – A Year of Deepening

 

2025 – A Year of Deepening

As 2025 comes to a close, I find myself pausing more often. Not to rush into what comes next, but to look back with gratitude and honesty at what this year has given me.

2025 was not a loud year. It did not demand attention. Instead, it invited reflection.

Travel continued to shape my days and my heart. Miles passed beneath us, landscapes shifted, and familiar rhythms settled in. Along the road, I was reminded again that home is not defined by walls or addresses, but by presence. By shared moments, kindness exchanged, and the quiet comfort of knowing where and with whom you belong. Travel stripped away excess and brought clarity. It taught me to notice, to adapt, and to trust the unfolding.

Faith accompanied me gently this year. Not as something to explain or defend, but as something lived. It showed up in gratitude whispered rather than proclaimed. In moments of surrender. In the steady sense of being held even when uncertainty remained. Faith became less about answers and more about trust, patience, and grace.

Writing became one of the greatest gifts of 2025. Through words, I found space to process, to heal, and to connect. Writing gave shape to experiences that might otherwise have drifted past unnoticed. It helped me listen to myself more closely and allowed me to share honestly, without needing to polish or perform. What began as reflection slowly deepened into something more meaningful. A way of honoring the journey rather than rushing through it.

Above all, 2025 reminded me of the power of people. Of family and friends who lifted me up simply by being themselves. Of kindness offered freely. Of honesty, warmth, and the quiet strength found in staying true. These connections were the steady thread throughout the year, grounding me no matter where the road led.

Growth this year did not come through dramatic change. It came through gentler days, clearer boundaries, deeper gratitude, and learning when to rest. It came from accepting what is, while still remaining open to what may be.

As I step out of 2025, I carry with me lessons learned, connections strengthened, and a calm confidence that I am exactly where I am meant to be. I leave this year thankful, softened, and hopeful.

Here’s to carrying the light of 2025 forward, with faith, gratitude, and an open heart.

Morning Magic at Delta Downs

 Morning Magic at Delta Downs

Our night at Delta Downs Racetrack turned out absolutely beautiful. We found the perfect spot right beside the track, and as dawn began to break, I took the pups out for their early walk. The air was still cool, carrying that soft mix of dew and hay, and in the distance I could hear the rhythmic thunder of hooves.

The purebreds were already out being exercised—muscles rippling under the morning light, their breath visible in little clouds against the pale sky. There’s something mesmerizing about watching such power move with such grace.

For a few quiet moments, the world felt perfectly balanced. Just me, the dogs, and the horses greeting the day in their own way. Pure beauty and peacefulness.

Good morning from Louisiana. 🌅

Kentucky Roads & Renegade Hearts

 

Kentucky Roads & Renegade Hearts

There’s something about coming back to Kentucky that feels like exhaling. The hills seem to rise and fall in rhythm with your heartbeat, the fences stretch for miles around pastures of sleek horses, and the air hums with quiet confidence, the kind that says, “You’re among friends here.”

For us, Kentucky isn’t just another stop on the map. It’s where the laughter of the Renegade family echoes through the campgrounds, where we reunite with familiar faces, and where the simple joy of belonging fills the air like the sound of bluegrass on a summer night.

The Bluegrass Rally

We rolled into the Bluegrass Truck • Bus • RV Rally with that familiar mix of excitement and “where do we park?” energy. But as soon as we were settled, we were wrapped in that unmistakable Renegade family warmth: waves, hugs, and laughter from people who just get this lifestyle.

There’s something wonderfully grounding about being surrounded by folks who understand what it means to travel full-time, troubleshoot water pumps, chase sunshine, and swap campground stories like postcards. The rally was the perfect balance of learning, laughter, and those little spontaneous moments that make the Renegade community so special.

Kyle, James, and Beth from Bluegrass Truck • Bus • RV made everything flow seamlessly, and their tech Bill Gast deserves a gold star for kindness and craftsmanship. While we were out at the racetrack having fun, Bill quietly showed up at the RV park, fixed our skylight leak, and replaced the vent that had lost a battle with a tree branch. It doesn’t get more professional or more generous than that.

People like them remind me that customer service is really just kindness in action.

Lucy at Her Best

Of course, none of it would have been the same without our girl Lucy. She was born to roam these roads, and Kentucky brought out her very best.

We left our Audi Bella resting safely in Kentucky while heading north to pick up Lou, our 20-foot enclosed trailer in Putnam, New York. It was just Lucy and us again, and she didn’t miss a beat.

On the open road she purred with confidence, holding her speed up every incline like she owned those hills. Backing into a Harvest Host site felt effortless, and even a Walmart parking lot, the true test of RV grace, was no challenge for her. Her turn radius is nothing short of miraculous.

At seven years old, she still has the heart and strength of a brand-new rig. Smooth, steady, and powerful. And when we filled up that morning? 9.4 miles per gallon, our best yet.

Sure, Lou is a necessity for protecting Bella and hauling our extras, but this trip reminded me just how spunky and amazing Lucy truly is on her own. She isn’t just a vehicle. She’s home, freedom, and friendship on six wheels.

Here’s to Lucy, the Renegade with heart, muscle, and soul.

Through the Heart of Horse Country

When rally life settled and the crowds thinned, we took Lucy out for a little joyride through horse country. The roads around Georgetown and Midway were lined with white fences and rolling pastures, each one prettier than the last.

We stopped for lunch in Midway, at a restaurant whose name escapes me now, something with barrels, which felt fitting for Kentucky. The food was good, but it was the laughter that made it memorable. There’s something about small-town hospitality that just seeps right into you.

The drive back was slow and easy, windows down, music low, that perfect mix of sunshine and gratitude. These are the moments I wish I could bottle.

Reflections from the Bluegrass

Kentucky reminded me, once again, that this journey isn’t just about miles or destinations. It’s about people who greet you like old friends, about rigs that carry not just your stuff but your spirit, and about the quiet joy that comes from living this way, one road, one rally, one connection at a time.

There’s a peace in knowing that no matter where we travel next, there’s always a circle of familiar faces, ready smiles, and a little bluegrass playing somewhere in the distance.

Author’s Note

To everyone who makes this lifestyle so special, the friends who wave from across the campground, the teams who keep our rigs rolling, and the family we’ve chosen on the road, thank you. You remind me every day that the best journeys are built on heart, not horsepower. 💙

Almost Heaven: The Song, The Singer, and a Swing in Gassaway

 

🎶 Almost Heaven: The Song, The Singer, and a Swing in Gassaway

You know that moment when a song starts playing, and before you even realize it, you’re singing along, word for word, heart wide open?

That’s Take Me Home, Country Roads, or as most of us lovingly call it, Almost Heaven.

What many people don’t know is that the man who made the song famous, John Denver, wasn’t born anywhere near West Virginia.

In fact, his real name was Henry John Deutschendorf Jr., and he came into the world on December 31, 1943, in Roswell, New Mexico.

Yes, that Roswell, the one with the UFO stories! 👽

His dad was an Air Force pilot, which meant young John moved constantly, from state to state, even to Japan. Maybe that’s why so many of his songs carry a longing for home, for roots, for the peace of open skies and winding roads.

 The Song That Found Its State

In 1970, two songwriters, Bill Danoff and Taffy Nivert, were driving through the countryside, working on a tune they hoped to pitch to Johnny Cash.

They had never been to West Virginia either! They were actually thinking of western Maryland, but “West Virginia” just sang better.

When John Denver heard the rough version, he loved it, joined in to finish the lyrics, and recorded it soon after.

And just like that, a man who had never set foot in the state gave it one of its proudest anthems.

“Almost heaven, West Virginia…” became a phrase that still makes hearts swell.

Released in 1971, the song shot up the charts and straight into the soul of the Mountain State.

By 2014, it was officially declared one of West Virginia’s state songs, and it’s now impossible to imagine a WV celebration without it.

 From Music to Memory: The “Almost Heaven Swing”

Fast-forward to today, and you’ll find that Almost Heaven isn’t just a song, it’s a whole vibe.

All across the state, there are giant Almost Heaven Swings, wooden swings with the words carved above them, placed in some of the prettiest scenic spots around.

One of my favorites?

The Almost Heaven Swing at the historic Gassaway Depot, right here in Gassaway, West Virginia.

Perched near the Elk River Trail, it’s the perfect place to sit, sway, and hum those familiar lyrics while the evening light turns golden.

Whether you’re a local or just passing through, it’s impossible not to smile as you realize, yes, this really does feel a little like heaven.

 So, Next Time You’re Here…

Find the swing, take a seat, and let your feet dangle over the moment.

Whisper a quiet “thank you” to Henry John Deutschendorf Jr., the boy from Roswell who somehow captured the soul of a state he’d never seen.

And when you do, don’t forget to hum along:

“Country roads, take me home,

To the place I belong…”