Alexis Hartz, Author

I love this image of Cat's  bravest moment. It was only the second time I saw her climb a tree, and the first time to make it this far up into the branches. She appears to be scouting for her next meal, or perusing the horizon for predators. But in reality, she is just a few feet from a bedroom window where she can be pulled to safety by a willing human. She never was an adventurous cat on her own.  The last time she was in a tree was in 2004.  I had had her only a few weeks and we were still working out the details of our pet owner/pet relationship. She had rebelliously run away one morning and a wandering coyote  forced her to find safety in the tree outside of my condominium while I was at work. As soon as I got home and she heard me walking up the sidewalk she started scolding me for leaving her in such a predicament. Meow, meow, meow, meow...."How could you?" That was the first incident in a string of many over our eleven years together that she c...

Georgia O'Keeffe's Inspiration: Abiquiu, New Mexico Today marks the 30th day I've been on the road and away from home. I've travelled through eight states and logged over 3,500 miles. I'm road weary and homesick. I long for the personal comforts that even the most luxurious hotels cannot offer. Comforts like the weak shower head in my bathroom, sitting on a squatty beach chair on my patio, and the sound of the school bus cruising through the neighborhood promptly at 8:15 each morning. I'm not complaining. Everywhere I go I meet people that tell me how much they would like to be in my shoes, to escape their daily routines and wander. I am grateful that I don't have a regular job and a daily routine, but I think they are all romantics. Great cinematography is somewhat to blame for glamorizing life on the road.  Landscapes captured on film don't capture the smell of excessive motor heat, the eye fatigue caused by incessant sun glare on the da...

Each time I visit my parents in Maine I usually have the very good fortune to accompany them on their monthly "hiking group" outing. May's outing was a day of biking day on Peaks Island, one of many islands in Casco Bay off the coast of Portland.   Now an artists' community with about 800 year-round residents,  the island has been a  popular summer destination for vacationers since the late 1800’s. We had to find out why. After purchasing tickets for passengers and bikes, we boarded the Casco Bay Ferry in Portland. The ferry ride is a treat in itself, seventeen minutes of panoramic views of the islands in the bay and the Portland skyline.  From the ferry's dock we could smell  cinnamon and hurried up the hill to Peak's Cafe where some of us enjoyed Linda's famous cinnamon buns. I bypassed the buns to get my buns on a rental bike at  the bike rental stop just down the street.  Brad’s Bike Rentals looks like a small garage with a fr...

Oh she's a beauty. Doesn't look like much from the outside, but inside she's cozy, and clean, and comfortable. She's been loved, and she's ready for someone to take her on the road again. I've outgrown her. All of my work-camper friends said that I would. Some told me that I'd upgrade to a newer model. Others were sure that I'd find solace in a smaller rig. I still haven't decided which way I'll go, but I do know for sure that I will have another home on wheels. Living in my motor coach has been more than a dream come true. It's been a great privilege to park in magnificent places, surrounded by views that even the ultra-rich can hardly afford.  It's been a great blessing of kind neighbors sharing potluck dinners and telling stories 'round the campfire. It's been an intimate connection with nature, particularly the sounds of soft gentle rain on the rooftop and the ever-present call of a hoot owl outside of my window....

Closing a chapter is never easy.  Today I ponder how I will make the transition from transient living to permanency in a small community.  I’m thinking about everything I will lose in the process: the exhilaration of arriving at a new location, the confidence-building exercise of driving the coach, and the interest from others when I describe my workamper lifestyle. Transitions, we all have them.  My transition from road warrior to next door neighbor is no different. It requires effort, deliberate effort applied to unwanted tasks like finding a new home, abandoning the motor coach, and dealing with snow. I need big motivation to see this transition through.  I need a community. In my years on the road I’ve made friends that live across the country and around the world. Even though I can IM them anytime, knowing that I may never see them again is heartbreaking and lonely. I can’t keep building this virtual community. I want a real one. Deep down I think we al...

The last time I went into the phone store to upgrade my cell phone I looked for one that was just a phone . "No such thing on your plan," the clerk told me. "Besides, it's good to have the camera on the phone, in case you are in a car accident, or something like that."   Really? My mother always told me about wearing clean undies in case I was in a car accident, but now I have to carry a camera too?   Like most of my generation I don't understand the fascination with phone cameras and caring a cache of images in my hands 24 hours a day. Of course needing glasses to see those tiny photos is probably part of the turn off. Oh don't get me wrong. I love my photos as much as the next person. But, I continually and carefully to edit my collection. Photographs capture so much more than an image. They are full of memory triggers --- which can be good or bad. They take us back to the past -- which can be good or bad. Seriously, photos of some of ...

Yesterday we prepared for today's rains.  Oh, and did they come. One cloud burst right after another. Rain. Wind. Hail. Game delayed.  Game on. Game delayed. Game on. Forty degrees. Wet and cold. Inning after inning fans and workers nestled together in any bit of shelter they could find. Any person in their right mind could see that the weather was not fit for man, beast, or baseball, but the show went on.  Whispers of when the game would be called circulated among the stadium staff, along with the inside info that ticket refunds would not be given if the team played a pre-determined number of innings. By the fourth inning even God had had enough.  A clap of thunder and a bolt of lightning came out of the sky and the game was finally and officially declared "rained out". I could tell you how miserable it was, especially cleaning up after all that, and how I came home wet, and dirty, and tired, and chilled to the bone. But as you can see from the images ...