Living my best life
I am now living the dream I first imagined when I was in my mid-twenties: in love with an earthy man, living off-grid and sustainable in the hollows of the forest. There’s a garden, as I had imagined, actually far more land than I ever saw in the vision of my future. Prayer flags wave over the front door that we painted turquoise. The fir deck is large enough for several chairs and a folding table that I have set at the end so I can look out at the forest while I write.
This land is the original home of the Pomo People who lived among Redwood, Madrone, Douglas fir, Oak, and Bay trees. In 1850s, pioneering ranchers arrived and prospered through ranching and timber harvesting. The folks who landed on this hillside planted twenty nut and fruit trees, which we will prune this fall. So far, we have identified, apples, pear, fig, olive and walnut trees, blackberry and raspberry bushes, too. Some are beginning to produce fruit. I can barely wait for harvest.
Deep in the forest is the evidence of the old growth Redwood trees harvest after the San Francisco fire of 1906. Ancient Mamas, old growth Redwood trees with a base 20-30 feet wide, had birthed baby trees (still nearly 100-feet tall) that stand around her base in a Fairy Ring. I thought this could be my ritual spot, but then Joey found the bear den in a burned-out redwood tree. The place is already holy ground.
Most recently, this land was worked as a cannabis farm, and that’s not our plan, so that means there is a plentitude of rich soil. People remark on the level of work to turn over the hundreds of grow pots for the gardens I have in mind, and all I hear, “That’s a lot of CAKE! Bring it on,” I say. This much unspoiled land, that I can wander around naked if I damn well please, is a level of abundance that delights me to no end!! Together, we made a spiral in the front yard to a firepit. Sorry that the before and after pictures aren’t always from the same angle. We’ll sprinkle California poppy seeds and lavender.
I envision a cob bench with wine bottle glass art next to the firepit (where the rock is).
Homesteading gives me a purpose that I have not had in five years since being an empty nester in my home and womb with the completion of menopause through the isolating pandemic.
I love creating a home. This little house has good bones and we are making it ours. We’ll have a side deck with a sliding glass door from our bedroom. Joey just put in two new windows that look out onto a fern grotto. We are transforming ourselves as we transform this cottage. Our relationship is deepening.
Tapestries and altars are up. We have family heirloom antiques as furniture with built in stories… Joey’s mom’s turn of the century icebox is our fridge and his dad used to deliver blocks of ice in San Francisco. I know to rub soap on wood drawers because my clothes are nestled in my mother’s 18th-century oak dresser. It makes me feel young again to live in harmony with the earth, surrounded by trees and love, as I had always hoped that I would one day. Well, that day has arrived.
I am not relying on a grid. There is no power here but what use and what we save. I am choosing to learn this lesson of reciprocity with the earth and all life. We are testing solar energy with our LED lights and battery systems. We light candles and strategically place replaceable battery candles to illuminate our path of nighttime bathroom visits. Neither of us like the noise pollution from gas generators, so we use sparingly for power garden tools. You don’t leave on the lights, or let the water run, and Mother Earth, no, never keep the fridge door open.
This view of the duff strewn trail through the forest beckons me to listen to the life humming, buzzing, and chirping. This is my happy place and blogging about my homesteading adventures.
Thirty years is a very long time to wait for a dream to manifest, but I am pleasantly surprised to discover that I am not bitter about how long it took for the Universe and me to get it straight. The butterflies’ dance is sweeter because now I see Melinda here with me, and many other spirits who have crossed to the other side. The Douglas fir trees are Christmas trees just like the ones we had growing up and remind me of my dad. Forest bathing mends me, makes me stronger and happy. The years between the wanting and the getting, has helped me to focus more precisely and come to truly believe that I am worth living my best life.
