I’m not sure what Robert Frost was getting at when he said, “You can’t get too much winter in the winter,” but if he means what I think he means, he’s wrong.

Winter in Minnesota — and the Midwest in general — is an experience. Winter in a motorhome in Minnesota just shouldn’t happen.

We’d learned in October that the park where we dump our tanks was closing down after the last weekend of that month. We’d done our research and finally found a place that was still open for the winter months.

After weeks of cold weather and blowing through propane tank after propane tank, we finally decided it was time — we needed to get out. We’d hung on as long as we could.

So, we winterized the RV.

This meant emptying our tanks and clearing out the water lines before putting in anti-freeze. And this meant that we no longer had access to water in the RV — no sink, no toilet, nothing. I posted brightly colored notes around as a reminder that nothing worked and that I couldn’t dump water down the sinks.

I was worried that in an early morning, sleep-deprived state I might make a mistake.

To make things a little easier, I put a bin in the kitchen sink to dump water into if needed.

This was not an ideal way to live — especially with no toilet — and we knew it was time to get out of the motorhome altogether. We had moved Pica and the cats to my parents’ house, and the dogs were ready to get inside.

So, we started loading our stuff into bags to move into our temporary apartment. The process seemed endless, and there were things literally coming out of the woodwork. How we had fit this much stuff inside 300 square feet is beyond me.

It took days and days of packing, moving, and cleaning (and all 100+ books being hauled inside). We just couldn’t understand where all the stuff was coming from. But I guess, all we really had was storage space — lots of cupboards to tuck stuff away. We had acquired a lot over the years of living in the motorhome.

While we were tearing our home apart and trying to create a new one, I couldn’t help but feel sad. Sad for the life we’d led traveling the road, sad for our Wandering Dolphin who was to be parked in the woods, sad that we were leaving the place we’d called home for the past three years. I could hardly bear to be inside the motorhome, even though I had to go in there to move stuff out. The empty cupboards were haunting me, and I wondered when we would move back in.

We left the photos on the walls and certain things inside that were specific to living in a motorhome, but everything else was moved inside.

On Christmas Day we completed the final step, and our Wandering Dolphin made its way to its winter resting spot.

It was perfect timing, too, because just a day later is when the winter storms started.

We’ll be living in a stationary (traditional) home for a while, and though we may not be staying in the motorhome, I think our hearts will always be on the road, looking for our next adventure.

We have several adventures lined up for the next year, and I’d still love to share our journey with those who are interested — even if that journey doesn’t take place in our home-on-wheels for a while!