New beginnings in nature are a wonder: coming back to the land as we are doing, 
and I, is full of potent potential and with memories - of my childhood immersion in wild landscape, full of nostalgia, joy, ideas, new feelings… It is hard to find an anchor in it all, but friends’ messages, and the reciprocal pleasure of stories and meaning exchanged, make things feel more stable, more meaningful, and more do-able.
jarring up dried cornus mas
Even now, we are only really 2 months in. It feels more like a year (in the very best sense; rich in so many experiences, feelings, beautiful insights!) We are together one year: our ‘anniversary’ or our cycle round the sun, bringing us back to a new point on the circle, but higher up, in our spiralling together into a better life. So we’ve been together one full year, and this new land has been under our feet less than 2 months, as we viewed it first and then bought it and then went back and forth a lot and then we finally are here for a 2 week stretch so far….
Some days we are genuinely overwhelmed. We slept badly a lot these months! Our make-shift sleeping arrangements in the tent got in the way of the work, the rest AND the play!! A final straw was broken, and our aching limbs were eventually rewarded by two spanking-new futon mattresses, red and filled with organic cotton …..mmmmmmmmm. A very different a beautiful sleeping experience.
Getting the basics in place has not been straightforward. This has taken its toll on my own emotions and enthusiasm. And it made me think; how easy it is to give up on any major project at the very first hurdle. The first time something gets super-uncomfortable, and we give in/ put it to the side/ decide on an easier path. I love that we do not have that option, here! Not that we are the types: we both have quite tenatious energy and characters, and together these qualities appear to be multiplied.
But sleeping badly, waking up aching and creaking and grumpy, sweating profusely for most of the day – and especially when we drive anywhere new (unknown roads, disorienting motorways and junctions, super-rude and dangerous drivers coming up behind us with larger vehicles, waaaah!), making food and doing minimal washing of clothing – all without running water. It has gotten quite tense in places.
What to do when life is strained like this?? We just make it simpler. And more fun! Because we are free and living privately and outwith the usual constraints of socialised cult-ery, we are able to let things surface – anything, anytime, anywhere – and to release. There is skill in such a dynamic, and a certain humility and willingness must be applied – and we relish this more and more, as we each become more familiar to the other. We have to keep reminding ourselves, each other, that we are safe: that we are both committed to this relationship, this land, this lifestyle and all the projects under it: to being creative and cocreative, and to not letting ourselves be cynical or depressed about anything, no matter how glaringly it juts into our comforts.
Amongst the discomfort(s!), our love grows, and our appreciation of the tiniest of riches expands. Just a moment ago, I sat listening to a long voice message from a dearest friend in Scotland who I miss a lot, whilst eating a mini peach. I responded with another voice message, telling my friend about the magic of this miniature soft fruit; of finding the peach trees almost-overwhelmed by the brambles, of tending to the clumsy twigs that nevertheless seemed to want to move forward with around 50 peaches, and now – a month or two later – sitting down to such a special moment (peaches being something that I only knew a canned and syrup-ed form of as a child), in the middle of the day; a punctuating fruity lushness, gifted from the land by way of my partner’s hands, and I just sit here and receive it – and enjoy it.
It is quite a change from shopping for most things, even from foraging the gardens below our previous house, which unfortunately were events tainted by a mad neighbour, glaring visibly oltra-aggitated down at us. Here we are seen, heard, interrupted and even spoken to by NO-ONE. We listen fully to each other. We hear birds and other mysterious creatures, the wind, far away farm machinery, occasional cars passing on a road a forest away. There is no impending visit or bill to be paid or authority to be attended to. It is just us, and nature.
The Real Master and the True Mastery: outwith the false hierarchy of clowns, smoke and mirrors, there is just a clear choice about what to do each and every day/ moment/ situation; there is little humming and hawing. There is a lot of discussion none-the-less, but very little confusion or conflict - practically zero real disagreement. We simply potter about, together or not-too-distantly, and we just make things nicer. We have at least 50 major projects that want and need completing however each step of the way is essentially dictated by its urgency.
For example, we do need to have a weather-tight shelter for the winter. We have a building on this site, with at least 4 rooms, and a tent, and a car. But none of these are going to function as a highly cosy winter abode. Therefor a winter abode must be created. And for this, a site must be intelligently chosen. An accessible part of this very steep hillside, and one on which can be placed a building of the type that will remain most solid, no matter the storm, heavy snowfall, earthquake or the like, thrown at it.
some inspiration from another town in this zone: some epic wooden scaffolding
Our shelter needs to be solid, clean, the right size for our various activities…. and beautiful.
some very welcome cloudiness...
Yesterday I came across a corrie/ gully that neither of us had really registered before: it is one of the very few spots on the land that has a few meters of horizontal surface. Many, many trees in the way, but today we began thinning them out… Making more sunlight stream into the lower forest, and opening up the ‘floor’ space. Now we are beginning to imagine what next: foundations? Large stones? Sand? Should we bring in some other materials, or make it all from things we find around us? Should we buy a basic frame, or make it all rough-hewn?
These are big choices, but we sit lightly with them – there is only the right way and the best way forward; the land will tell us, the trees will show us the form, and if it is not solid enough here or there, we’ll be sure to find a way to make it more-so. At times we feel like explorers, or like the first people on this land: taking what God/ Great Spirit/ The Universe/ Gaia Sophia is giving to us, and using it as best we can with what we currently are skilled in,,,, then learning more and more through doing, until we get really, really skilled.
Tons of possible outcomes present themselves, and we choose the most positive that we can see: the most beautiful solution, that pleases us both the most.
Whatever unfolds, it will be free, and we'll be becoming free-er with it.
Much love to you all in your homesteading adventures these fine days!
