Dollars and Scents.

I'll be honest, I've been a closet Scentsy fan for years. The year before I'd uprooted my life and moved west, I was gifted a warmer. I loved it so much I gave my mother a warmer, and we would 'go in' on orders and share our bars. My favourite scents pertained to Autumn, and she loved anything and everything that 'smelled like Christmas'.

Given that the sense of smell is so strongly connected to memories, when she first passed away, the last thing I wanted at that moment was something so vivid. I gave my warmer away. As a matter of fact, I gave almost everything away. I bought a Greyhound ticket west without a plan. For almost three years to follow, I had no fixed address. After what seemed like forever house hopping, couch surfing, and most especially camping, I finally found a place to call Home.

My partner and I moved into a tiny farm house in the middle of winter. Given my history, it took me a while to settle in to the idea of having a home. The seasons have since come full circle, and now that Autumn has arrived, I feel the urge to celebrate!

I sat down at my computer to visit my friend's Scentsy page. I browsed around for my favourite scents, wishing that I myself had become a consultant years ago. Witnessing my friend's ascent from consultant to star director, and in such developing a well-paying career that allows for travel and lots of free time, [not to mention all the free trips!] I wish I would have sooner followed in her footsteps. Instead of just ordering some product, I decided to sign up.

I had so many reasons not to before. Worries of whether or not I'd be a good sales person, concern of what my friends might think if I were to sign up for a multi-level marketing outfit, doubts that I would ever make it work.

Needless to say, I'm over it.

Truth is, I enjoy the product. My scent to memory connection has always been impeccable, so much so that the smell of the sun hitting freshly rained upon fallen leaves quite literally moves me to [happy] tears. I love when that happens.

I am so blessed to have moved to such a beautiful place, but it doesn't always smell as nice as it looks. Farmers often fertilize their fields, and the well water in this old farm house has a questionable odour at times. We have a rich, beautiful, yet ever-so-ripe compost heap for our massive garden [which you can thankfully only smell from the zucchini patch], and let's not forget that family of skunks that has taken up residence somewhere close-by. All in all, if I'm not in the middle of baking or having a fire, it smells like, well... farm country!

Thus, I finally caved. Upon doing several web searches, checking local flea markets and directories, I have yet to come across a local consultant. I do my best to always support local farmers, bakers, craftspeople, and tradespeople [as I am a few of those things myself!], and so I thought, perhaps I should be a local Scentsy slinger too. I do enjoy their products, as I'm sure fellow country folks might as well.

Don't worry, I didn't sign up for this thinking it'd be a good 'get rich quick' scheme, but I am hopeful that I might generate a little extra income. Not so that I can quit my apprenticeship and go bohemian, I actually enjoy my new trade. But I'd love not to have to work at it 5, 6 and even sometimes 7 days a week. And not so that I no longer need to grow my own food, I really do love gardening. But I'd love to be able to spend more time doing it without worrying if the bills will get paid.

That said, if it doesn't pan out, at least my rugged little house out in the mountains will always smell amazing. And my old adventure van/workhorse will no longer stink like.. well, all the things. It'll stink pretty too!

Thanks for taking a moment to read this. If you'd like to share in my indulgence, check out my page... or perhaps you'd like to join me on this scented venture? I'm here for you every Scentsy need!

Happy VANiversary, StarShip Delilah!

It was a year ago we found you, and the weather was just the same the day we brought you home. First good rain of the season, a bit of a chill in the air.. and you were there for us. Beautiful, blue... patina and perfect. Best four hundred bucks ever spent, for forty thousand kilometers you have carried us. Well worth every cent.

You've taken us on so many adventures. To places I could have never been without you.. Camping in the mountains and fishing trips, you kept us warm and dry. Up mountain trails and down the backroads, to lakes and rivers and streams. You helped me find the most beautiful places, that once only existed in dreams.

When winter came, you didn't once fail me. We dared the icy slopes which bigger trucks had slid backwards and down, but you pulled through. And there was that time we took a wrong turn out in the country where even snow plows dare not go, and you blasted through all the waist high snow drifts with ease. I'll never forget that ride, the most exciting drive of my life.

Having you opened up my world. You gave me more freedom to choose a new line of work, and for us to find a home base far beyond the reaches of public transit. The freedom to explore the world around me from a broader perspective, with a little 'home' on wheels.

Thank you StarShip Delilah, for everything. For all those blissful moments 'out there'.. for carrying all of our gear, our food, our firewood. Thanks for not giving up no matter where we ventured, for laughing with us at those '4x4 only' signs.

It's been a good year. It's been a blast having you around, you're a real conversation starter too. That still surprises me.. it's not like you're a show car or a sports car or a big jacked up truck, but what you are is nostalgia. People love to see you, still out there on the road. You were many people's 'first', even best or most reliable vehicle they'd ever owned. You inspired complete strangers to share stories and memories with us in the most unexpected moments, and that's pretty cool of you.

I never expected what was to come once we found you. You changed my life. You gave me the opportunity to become comfortable enough to drive. To push my own boundaries, to challenge myself. When I was younger I never had the desire to drive, but you opened my eyes. It'll be a challenge to find a successor as my trusty automobile, things just aren't built the way they used to be. Like my solid steel, oldskool driving machine.

Moving out to the country was a dream come true. We couldn't have done it without you.. You carried our couch, our bed, and all the things. You helped us find a place to call home. So many trips for lumber and soil and garden supplies, you even carried the rototiller not just once, but twice! You're a work horse, a tent, a mobile living space. Thank you for doing it all, with grace.

  

Happy Vaniversary, StarShip Delilah!

xo

Vagabond-ish.

Once a vagabond, always a vagabond. In mind and in spirit, and occasionally in body too. Though I've had a pretty solid home base for 8 months, it's hard not to feel like a squatter. I am, after all, on someone else's farmland. My partner and I both feel this way. You just never know where life will take us, where we may have to move to find work, or what might happen to this ever-changing landscape. We have planted seeds and established roots here, and have even planned our layout for next year's crops. But that doesn't mean we aren't ready to move on if we have to.

The nature of our work keeps us on the road most days. We usually make it home to sleep, but keep a bit of camping gear in the van just in case. And we always have a tote of food and water, a portable kitchen, and a change of clothes too. What a change from living out of a rucksack. I can carry a lot more things. I try my best to keep it minimal. Last summer I would drag my rucksack with me to work, if I didn't have time to make it to my storage locker in the morning. I'd be the one getting changed and brushing my teeth in the staff bathroom.

People get a kick out of us at lunch time when we bring out the stove top to cook. We have been asked on more than one occasion if we just live in our van, a question to which we never really have a straight answer. Last winter before we'd found this place, we had organized ourselves in such a way that we would essentially be camping at our jobsites. We were prepared to use the resources we had access to such as the electricity to keep us warm and charge our wares, and on some more remote sites using scrap lumber to build a fire. Every town has a laundromat, every gas station has a washroom we could use to get clean.

As ready as we were, I'm glad we found our little farm house in the valley. It's our piece of paradise. We fit in well here, and quite enjoy the country life. If we do decide to move on, I refuse to do so unless we find something just like what we have, only better. Garden space, a river out front, mountain views, and we're allowed to have our smoker and fire pit too.. we're kind of spoiled. A home base that satiates our vagabond-ish needs. It's kind of like camping, with a roof and power and ruining water.

Winter is making it's way back again as quickly as it left, and we are preparing. Totes need stocking with food and water, firewood needs collecting, and seeds need to be stored. We must look into purchasing some warmer wares and repairing what we have. The generator is good to go. The garden is winding down, the freezer is almost full.

Wherever I am, I am home.

Whether it's here in this farmhouse in the valley, or on a patch of gravel in my van down by the river, no matter where I find myself, I am home.

Manifesting 'The End'

I'm often haunted by that little saying, "be careful what you wish for". Pretty sure I'm not the only one. If ever I say something might happen this way or that, my partner always says, "well don't say it like that, you speak it into existence!". He constantly reminds me that our minds are more powerful than we could ever know. We put on a show the other day, it's a mini-series on the NetFlix called How the World Ends. It demonstrates how people throughout history have predicted the world would end, and prepared for the apocalypse.

Part way into the first episode [that's about as far as we got], the narrator explains that 40% of people in America believe that we are currently living in the end of days. The ol man starts yelling at the TV, 'well of course we're in the end of days, all of civilization has made it so by predicting it!'. Suppose he could be right.. That by our entire history of civilization believing in our impending doom, we have manifested it to be so.

Perhaps we are the force of nature that pushes Mother Earth into her next cleansing cycle. Maybe it was our 'End Days' way of thinking that kept us living and consuming in a way that rapidly accelerates our climate to change for the worse. Maybe those of us who want to witness The End so bad have been reincarnated again and again here on Earth to make it happen.. Perhaps we gathered a crowd to watch the fight.

We see it every day in microcosm manifestations, the world is bleak around those who believe it to be so.. yet there are those who live through whatever comes their way with a smile on their face, and no matter their trials and troubles they survive and thrive happily even in the darkest of days. The girl who lived a sheltered, comfortable life with everything provided is hiding in her room on anti-depressants, while the old man who has been to war and witnessed his best mates blown to bits sits outside in the sunshine smiling as he picks his guitar and sings.


...


Not saying that I know what I'm talking about, just talking about the way I see it. It's probably 'too late' to change our self-inflicted fate, but at least we can choose to live out the rest of our days with a smile. A meteor could crash into the Earth next week wiping out life on this planet, or you could walk out into the street this afternoon and get hit by a bus. There's no real way of knowing when our end comes, but there's no sense in sitting here fretting about it. All we have is Now.

Live like there's no tomorrow, but plant seeds just in case.

3 years later...

Ah man I'm bad at this. It's been an eventful summer that's for sure. The garden exploded, and we've literally been feeding the town with it. We use our produce in barter and trade, and the freezer chest is full. Loads of it are just given away. It's a beautiful garden, my best one yet. It's a fair bit of work to maintain, but it's more than worth it.

It's been a long, hot season. It's rained sparsely twice in the past 3 months, and this is the worst season for wildfires yet. We had a few days of relief from the smoke, but as I drove home today I could see a thick haze on the horizon. We're enveloped once again.

We find relief from the heat out on the water. My partner reclaimed a boat he had stashed in a barn. It took us a bit to get it up and running again, but it's been well used since. We are surrounded by lakes and waterways and blessed with beautiful places to fish. Our season started out well, we caught 7 rainbow trout in a few hours on our first lake run. Only half the luck since, and now we're waiting for the salmon. And the rain.

Work has been ...interesting. I have learned a lot in the 8 months I've been working with metal. I am learning from the best. Our team is highly sought after in the valley. Contract work can be unpredictable at times though when it comes to lining up jobs (and getting paid for them). We've had a couple nerve racking lulls, but then a week later we're turning down work because we're booked solid. It's kind of funny that we live in a tiny little farm house, and work in 4-8,000 square foot homes worth millions. And some with unbelievable views. BC stands for bring cash, and man do they ever.

I wish they'd share the wealth... though our schedule is full, our budget is still hella tight. We just barely made rent on time for the first of the month, and with so many bills coming up [and a couple weeks before we can expect any more pay] everything is on the line. My wheels, my phone, and ultimately our home. If only we could pay rent with vegetables...


It makes me think about the perception of wealth. If produce was currency, I'd be rich. Therefore, I suppose I am. It's reassuring to know that if the economy went for a dump, at least we can produce our own food, and lots of it. We need to get a bigger fire safe for our seed collection.

Besides going to work and our occasional trips to town, we live a very simple, localized lifestyle. It's very old timey and laid-back. As I was saying about the barter and trade, it's a part of life out here for 'people of the valley'. Most of our food came from somewhere in this community, trading zucchini and squash for farm fresh eggs, and our tomatoes and seeds for the sweetest corn on the cob I've ever tasted. It's such a contrast from city life, out here in the country.

Which by the way, was always a dream of mine. It's been 3 years now since I landed here. 3 years ago I stepped off that greyhound bus. I had no real plan.. If you would have asked me right then and there where I'd have seen myself three years later, I wouldn't know what to tell you. I could have ended up anywhere, or continuously traveled.. I could have gone back east, back to the land from which I came. but I'm still here.. I somehow passed the test of time that comes with east-coast peeps moving west. many go back in the first year and a half. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered it more than once. 


 It wasn't the easiest choice to make, nor the easiest ride to take when i decided to stay. I've faced almost as much adversity the past three years as I had in the 29 years before that, but also experienced some of the most beautiful, priceless moments of my life. I would never take it back for anything. the places that I've been, the people that I've met.. it's just incredible. Even if I had to lose everything once or twice to get there. Even if I had to miss everyone back home so much to make these new connections, I would never wish it hadn't happened. 

If someone would have approached me that day I stepped off the bus and told me where I'd be in a few years and what I'd be doing, my response would probably be something along the lines of 'I wish...' and that's the craziest part of all. I wouldn't have believed it. Couldn't have even dreamt it... at the same time now that I'm here, I couldn't have imagined it any other way. Although I have these memories of my mother speculating how my life might end up if I moved out west, and it's almost creepy how spot on she was. I didn't really believe her either. But if I remember correctly, I'm pretty sure I did say 'I wish'. If I could only tell her, and hear her say 'I told you so...'. But I do. 

I do.