It’s mid-May of 2026 and my new neighborhood in Covington, Mainstrasse Village, is starting to wake up. The restaurants are setting up their outdoor dining, people are using the sidewalks for more than just necessity, and the first big spring festival of the year is this weekend a few blocks from home — Katie and I will be pouring beers with the neighborhood association there on Sunday. After more than two decades on a farm, there is a lot that I am still getting used to with this new life – but I feel like I am learning something or someone every day.
I haven’t posted here in a little over a year. The posts from when I ended my hike and now have been a little cryptic. A lot changed since the end of my hike. I went through a divorce, sold the farm, and moved to the city with my new partner. I’m living in a house that’s older than anything I’ve ever owned, in a neighborhood I’m still learning, with a life that looks pretty different from the one I was living when I last wrote here. That’s the short version and it’s the only version I’ll be sharing here.
What I do want to do is start writing again. I’ve missed it. I still have the skoolie I converted that has taught me more about electrical systems than I ever wanted to know. I’m living in a neighborhood that deserves to be written about. I’m seeing live music again. I’m deep into AI in ways that are genuinely changing how I work and think, and I want to try to write about that for normal humans instead of just talking about it with other people who already get it. I still have some more hikes that I want to share the plans for as I get ready and the reflections as they happen. And I have some things I’ve been turning over in my head that don’t fit any particular category — the kind of posts that are really just me thinking out loud.
Some might wonder why I’m restarting here instead of starting fresh somewhere new. Honestly, the continuity is the point. This blog is pushing twenty years old. It doesn’t represent all of me at any given moment — no blog does — but there’s a version of me in every post, and that person has been a moving target. Going back and reading the early stuff is a strange experience. I can see the outline of who I was trying to be, or who I thought I was, and it doesn’t always match who I remember being at the time. Keeping it all in one place means I can watch myself change. That seems worth more to me than a clean start somewhere else.
That’s what’s coming. I don’t have a posting schedule and I’m not going to pretend I do. But I’m back, the path is clear, and the first real post is already taking shape.
More soon.
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