Live Free

Everyday Magic

"We need beauty to touch us as deeply as we need love. Beauty is not a luxury, an accidental experience that we happen to have if we are lucky. Beauty dwells at the heart of life."  John O'Donahue

Every day feels magical here. Yesterday, we woke  after a long day and night of hardy, steady rain, to sunshine and absolutely brilliant colors in the forest. The air was crisp and hovering right around freezing.  Giddy about it all, the colors, the cool temperatures, we bundled up and headed up the ridge behind our house and into the forest.  Today was the first day we hiked to the tippy top. It's quite steep and crawling is pretty much what I had to do in some places.  Once on the ridge, there is a wide trail that winds through woods and meadows.  At one point I turned around gasped and giggled out loud. What I saw was a clear view of those magnificent mountains facing my back. Watching over me, in a way.  Of course, the photo (#6) does little justice to capture my view because in real life those mountains are endless.  

How did we get HERE? What did we do to deserve this? WHO gets to do life here?  I very often doubted that it would be us.  Even though Thoreau's quote, "Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you imagined," stayed ever present to my eyes via a cheapo refrigerator magnet for the past 15 years, many days went by where Byron and I both resigned that we didn't have what it took to live out the dreams.  After all, there was always the idea that we had too much of this, noot enough of that.  What if this? What about that? You know those thoughts and questions, right?  I'm so glad that more often than not, we didn't let the doubt talk us out of believing in our dreams. 

Amongst ancient mountains that roll on and on for as far as the eye can see, sparkling rivers, and forest thick with diversity. I am grateful for every moment of it.  As the world appears to crumble upon unrest on so many levels, to have this opportunity to see a bit of it unspoiled feels like the greatest gift of hope.  All of life is worth cherishing. 

This Makes Sense

"We may not have wings or leaves, but we humans do have words.  Language is our gift and responsibility. I've come to think of writing as an act of reciprocity with the living land.  Words to remember old stories, words to tell new ones, stories that bring science and spirit back together to nurture our becoming people made of corn."  

I've slowly and deliciously made my way through a book of essays by Robin Wall Kimmerer, entitled Braiding Sweetgrass. I'm struggling with words to convey how meaningful her writing felt to me.  It is so beautiful and poignant and it put words to a language that my soul speaks but which I have such difficulty expressing. My book is earmarked in numerous places of passages that struck me as true and beautiful. I especially appreciated the one above as I've been pondering how to continue to write. Sometimes I feel so scared to write - of not having anything to say - of feeling so rusty and inarticulate that these written words do nothing to communicate all that is inside. Alas, fear is paralyzing, and I want to be done with it. So, as many times as I've said it before, I'll say it once more -  that my intention is to show up here. 

These last few months of uprooting and rerooting ourselves have been all sorts of exciting, confusing, blissful, and heart-wrenching.  However, little by little, day by day, our days here make sense.  I feel so much more grounded now that we are settled into our home.  Last week as I was trimming an invasive vine out of our meadow, I felt so much contentment tending the land, and doing my small part to show my gratitude for all the beauty and life Mother Earth gives.  This morning, as I raked ruts out of our driveway (a huge storm washed through us yesterday), I felt purpose caring for our homestead created by other's hands and hearts.  I feel incredibly honored to have inherited this place and I want to be a good steward to it. When I'm on the porch, mixing up herbal concoctions, or reading in the hammock, I feel peace. I think to myself, this makes sense.  This is the life I've longed for.  This is the way I've dreamed of spending my days. I am home.  

 

 

 

 

 

 When we moved from Texas to North Carolina we weren't quite sure what our future would look like. We planned to buy a few acres, build a yurt, tend a garden, and live happily ever after.  Instead, soon after arriving, we found a beautiful little homestead that we knew would suit us perfectly.  It's bizarre how life works out. It was last fall that we camped at a nearby campground to our homestead.  Originally, we had planned to camp further west in another town about an hour away. However, when we arrived at the first campground, we weren't thrilled by the grounds  (too close to town and lacking big woods).  So we cancelled our reservations, kept driving to another campsite that we had heard about from a friend as being pretty decent.  We called to confirm that they weren't booked up and, sure enough, they weren't.  We drove and drove up a winding and twisting road that circles around the mountain. We soon lost cell service and arrived at sunset.  The campsite turned out to be great.  Deeply wooded, plenty of trails and waterfalls.  I took the best nap during one of our afternoons there.  It was quiet and secluded (we were camping during the week and not over the weekend).  We really loved this particular area.

So, when we were looking for temporary living arrangements for the summer, we stumbled upon an RV pad which could be rented from an individual long term.  The RV pad was just a few miles down the road from where we camped last fall. During this time, we had also put in a contract on a small tract of land in another area west of where we were living in the RV.  The plan was still to build a yurt.  Then a couple of weeks after we'd been living in the RV, I saw a home listing on Facebook. I had seen this home before (months ago) but it was out of our price range.  However, the new price had been slashed as they divided the land to open it up to more buyers.  Out of curiosity, Bea and I drove out to the address and took a peak around the grounds near the driveway entrance. Immediately, my interest was peaked.  It was lovely from what I could see. Still, I didn't immediately mention it to Byron and it was a whole week before we actually made the move to see the property with an agent. 

It was love at first sight. Truly.  A storybook. Apple trees and blueberry bushes and blackberry brambles and wildflowers and a pond and fenced in garden and lovely outbuildings and a tree swing. A forest and spring water. The details were everything. And then we walked into the house. Hand built. Round. Solar powered. Just lovely in every way. It felt like a dream. This couldn't really be within our reach? But it was.  As if the universe paved the way for us to find this place at this time.  

And here we are now.  So far away from the hustle bustle of city life, of suburban life, of small town life. It's quiet here. There is space to contemplate. There is place to savor the beauty. There is time to slow down.  There is time to do and to be. And I am counting every last lucky star.  Offering gratitude to the breezes that blow down our mountain. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.