Armchair travel

 A friend asked about my desire to travel. I didn’t know what to say, other than that desire has changed.

I traveled in younger days. I was always in a rush to see as much as I could. I don’t have a desire to do that.

I’m partial to my own place and neighborhood these days. I like our garden and the woods nearby.

If I traveled far, I think I’d visit places tourists don’t think about. And instead of rushing from one place to another, I’d just sit in one place until it was time to go home.

The village of Discoed in the United Kingdon might be such a place. The ancient name of the place was Ditchecot or Dishcot, meaning cottage near the dyke. People were referring to Offa’s Dyke, said to have been built by the Mercians to keep the Celts out. The cottage was on the eastern side —the English side — of the earthworks. I know nothing of the Welsh-English border, but if it’s like the Mexico-Texas border it’s more fluid than most people imagine.

I’ve been reading about Discoed after seeing a reference to the village church, St. Michael’s. It has a circular churchyard with a wellspring just outside the gate. To the north is an ancient yew, 35 feet around. People say the tree could be 5,000 years old.

I can no longer imagine going through all the security at the airport, much less flying halfway across the world. But I can imagine sitting under that tree.