Eastward bound

 I started to write this blog post a couple months ago. I haven't written since May. I knew big things were happening. I could feel the impending change.

Last time I wrote, my world was shaky. My job no longer secure- both for lack of materials, and the physical strength to install them. Realizing that I'm no longer physically capable of many job things I could do before was a blow to the psyche. I knew I'd have to figure something out. I didn't know that once I had decided I was done, the universe would align almost immediately.

It never looks good in the moment. It's always an intense, sudden uncomfortable event that kicks me into motion. Discomfort makes us move. It's necessary, the biggest motivator. I found myself at my breaking point. I had to make the hard decision to walk away from the life I'd built up but could no longer handle.

There were other factors at play in my decision. After years of struggling to convince my partner to take a little bit of the responsibility weight off my shoulders, it finally did me in. The constant stressors that came with our lifestyle falling mostly on me shortened my burnout time. I reached it rather quickly- and then decided to try and drag myself along anyways. Until that moment on that one fateful day.

Thanks to covid delays, like thousands of others, not all of our permits were up to date. We were stopped on a routine check and told we could no longer drive the van until it was dealt with. We still had a 4 month wait. There's no way.. it's not impossible but it's certainly not easy living in a semi remote community without driving. That was the last straw. That bit of weight shifted enough to tip the scale. Instead of feeling angry and upset, I felt relieved that the choice had been made easy. I got my sign.


A few days later I'd set the date. Seven years was a long time to be anywhere for me. I never realized how deeply I wanted this change. It seems like going backwards. But after this long, and maybe just in general.. sometimes you have to take a big step back to continue to move forward. And I don't feel the least bit upset about it.

Don't get me wrong, it was a wonderful thing to experience being out there. I made great friends, had a million beautiful experiences, I learned a lot of stuff about things, and of myself. But it was long past due for my departure. I had to balance getting rides to the city for work and shipping my life to the east coast for the remainder of my time out there. It's a blur. Most of it was left there with my intent to return. But that didn't exactly go the way we thought it would either.

Shortly after my departure, the impending disaster that was the farm quickly unfurled. As the heat continued to be outrageous and the fires socking the valley in with smoke, the well system on the farm finally failed. A month has passed, and with several failed attempts to make the repair, we were left with no choice but to disband the farm. All of the animals are in the process of being rehomed, and our materials moving to neighbouring homesteads.

My belongings are still in the farmhouse. The moment I left I had to mentally write it all off as though it burned up in the fires. In order to get my head around leaving everything out there, I made a plan for my return to deal with it. I might not get the chance before the premises are vacated. But that was the point of letting it go. Just in case. I'm hoping it will be safely stored up the road until the world settles down a minute about this covid shit. It would be an easy flight out and back to ship it homeward if it wasn't for that. Hindsight and whatnot. At least I thought to put it all together before I left..

So I'm here. There's still a pandemic happening through which my timing to switch provinces was pretty on point. It was about as 'open' as the country had been this whole time, and shit shut down again pretty quickly not long after. I'm trying to enjoy the blessings in the moment without being overtaken by worry and guilt about leaving the farm in the middle of everything.

I had help writing a resume for the first time in years and I'm starting over to find a job. Pretty well back to where I started. In a room in a basement in my hometown on foot. It's kind of crazy to think about after everything.. that said, it's somehow been the best summer. I really missed my people. My place.. the comfort of knowing no matter what, I'm safe. I just need a minute to rest here a little.

3-11

 March 11th 2020 was the day it hit me- this whole pandemic thing is really happening, we're gonna do this. It seems like yesterday, but at the same time, forever ago. I remember chill of hearing about schools and theaters and businesses closing their doors. I'm typically a very adaptable person and can go with the flow, and even I felt mildly threatened by this sudden upheaval. 

This was the day I'd finally gotten my energy back after being sick for over a month. I decided to attempt to restock our now decimated pantry which had been depleted by weeks of staying home sick, and weeks before of winter weather keeping us grounded. Walking the aisles I quickly became numb and anxious- even our hidden little grocer had been gutted for every bag of rice and pasta. Panic had stricken the population into buying up all the dry food, canned goods and paper products they could- for fear of being locked down or quarantined. Luckily for me, no one had touched the produce.

Speaking of produce- I guess I spoke too soon. I was also late making my seed order, and was shocked to find that many of my regular items were long out of stock (and many still are). It's equally as encouraging as it was frustrating. At least people are taking interest in growing food. I hope that's a trend that continues, and the supply catches up with demand for seeds.

It's not just the food gardens people are after.. land is another thing that's becoming even harder to find, and selling at a premium. People want more space for those gardens- and a greater distance from others. Green space, room to breathe. Maybe they always wanted it as much as I ever did. But it took this global event to present a moment of "awakening". For lots of folks. An exodus from the city is in full swing. Land is changing hands quickly.

...

I knew looking back over my media posts this past year would feel.. strange. 311 has been showing up. I've been showing up.. it feels so much like I told you so...

...


It's been a whole year. It's been the longest year ever, yet it's gone by so quickly. It's hard to believe that in this amount of time, everything happened that did. February 3rd 2020 I went to the BC Women's Hospital for an appointment at the endometriosis Clinic that I have been waiting for for so long, and I got sick. The sickest I've ever been. Which eventually landed me in the hospital by the end of March, and my life hasn't been the same since.

I have now been back to work for over a month, and I'm not sure how much longer I can handle the job that I'm doing. Despite having almost a year off to find medical help and healing, I wasn't quite able to find the help I needed. And I'm not quite done healing yet.


2021 has only just begun, and already I'm feeling the weight of the season. Our crops must be carefully planned. Our time must be carefully utilized. And it is absolutely critical to stay positive.

The end- and the beginning...

 After a few hours up the hill chopping wood, my partner came back to the farmhouse looking a bit perplexed. He asks if I want the good news or bad news first- I always opt for the bad news to get it out of the way. "Farm sold" he says. The sale closes at the end of the month. The good news is they're giving us an extra couple months to figure out what we'll do about that. 

It was the last thing we'd expected at this point in time. The shock of our home-base changing hands suddenly in November hadn't worn off yet.

Though it wasn't expected, the news didn't come as a surprise. Back in summer 2019 when we moved the farm base up there, we knew the owner was thinking of selling. In fact, the property was currently on the market but no one was biting. His wife had passed a few years back, and he felt the acreage was a lot to manage without her. He's right, it didn't take long in her absence for everything to become overgrown.

We stayed anyways. We had a somewhat functioning farm on the five acres that needed a place to go. We spent the remainder of 2019 hauling up all of our accumulated building materials, our fifth wheel trailer, tools, and all the posts and fencing we had. If nothing else, it would be a great spot to park all our stuff when the 5 acres changed hands. We visited often with loads throughout the season, and spent time attempting to keep the invasive bramble at bay.

It didn't feel any kind of permanent- until 2020 came along with a pandemic. The landowner was traveling as the borders were being shut down. Up until that moment, he was still hoping to sell. When he finally got back into Canada and up to the farm, his tune had changed completely. We sat down and hashed out a rough ten year plan.

He felt extremely grateful to have this beautiful remote mountainside property to isolate in while the world shut down around us. In the wake of food shortages and society losing its shit, he had this. And us. He took the property off the market, invested tens of thousands into an excavator and equipment, and we got to work.

We spent an entire year cleaning up and planning. Over a kilometer of waterline was repaired and connected to bring spring water from the top of the mountain down to the field. We first built a barn completely out of reclaimed materials- just big enough for the goats to hang out with us on long days up the hill, and of course to store things in the loft and keep our tools dry. When it was finished, we could take our goats up to camp.

Almost an acre of blackberry bramble was peeled back off the field. The ground was leveled, and an area was made for our RV to park somewhat permanently. We started collecting materials for the shelter we planned to build around it. We even have a woodstove waiting.

The property owner had put hundreds of hours into operating the excavator. Repairs to the long driveway, the trail system, and the removal of some large dangerous trees. He learned to fix the machines. We spent an entire weekend together getting the dump truck up and rolling to make quicker progress on the land. It kept all of us busy in the strangest year of our lifetime.

On top of the pandemic, we each had our own hurdles to overcome. Not being able to travel is problematic for the landowner. And me suffering my own health crisis on top of everything really slowed me down. My partner has previous injuries that are coming back to haunt him. None of us came to admit it, this was all very daunting.

Though shock was definitely in the jumble of feelings in that moment, I was honestly relieved to hear the news.

Don't get me wrong. It's a beautiful property, and I have always felt a deep sense of honour and gratitude for the opportunity to spend our time there. I was always stoked for everything we talked about doing. But also very aware that at any point, it could all be over.

I feel like our presence there gave us each the opportunity to let go of something. Instead of dropping what we were holding on to in haste, we were instead able to put it down gently. I'm glad we were able to do that together. I'm thankful for the opportunity to reflect, and let go of ideals that don't serve me. I'm grateful for this time to learn some things about myself- to be honest with myself. To breathe.


Permanence in transience.
To be continued...

Sunday words

 I've been a little stuck for words lately. Particularly the written ones. Hell I can't even speak what's on my mind the way it appears. Sometimes I feel like maybe I shouldn't say a damn thing. I worry what'll happen if I do. But then.. what'll happen if I don't?

Anyways.

So 2021 eh. It's been interesting so far, I guess.. it's raining. Last day of January and it's only snowed that once since the solstice. I finally ran out of medical leave monies and had to go back to work last week. I ended up right back on the same site I left, 10 months before to the very day.

Not much has changed on the homefront since the farm sold. Did i mention that? A physician owns our farm. I mean, it's a lot more peaceful. Doctor farmer doesn't come around much in winter. He says we're nice people. We're only just doing what we do. Watch over the land, fix things when they break, make sure nothing gets taken. He's been here a few times. Bought a new tractor. Asks questions here and there. Drives here to pick up rent instead of me going all the way to the city. He's nice.


I'm still working on my health. It's not like I didn't already know I wasn't going to get any help with it. Pandemic or not, our medical system has no interest in healing chronic illness. Suppose I just felt I should go through the motions to further prove a point. Even doctor farmer says he goes to India when he needs medical help.. and he's a doctor!

I'm back where I started. Only I feel a little better for having let go of the notion that I could potentially find help outside of myself. For a minute there, I thought I'd wasted time taking leave, stressing about not being at work, having a nice long moment to myself. Alas, the time itself was what I needed, and would never have had otherwise. I had time to observe, notice subtleties and changes in my health depending on input and environment. I would have never in any other circumstances had so much time to just.. do that. Thanks, pandemic.


I'm not out of the woods yet. But I feel like I've begun to forge a path out of its darkest places. I know a long term fix won't be an easy one. I need to simultaneously make small but impactful steps on all facets of my health, not just the physical. I can't run this off, or diet it away. I'm also working on the headspace. And the spirit. A very slow and steady process.

Making very slow.... but steady progress.

I can do this. I mean, I have to, or I die slowly and uncomfortably for the rest of my life. I'm not into that. Happy suNday.

 

Switch

 I think it's safe to say that this year has been an Awakening in some form or another for many of us. For myself, experiencing a Health crisis amidst a pandemic certainly left me shook. Back in 2014 I was in the best health of my life. I promised myself then that I would never let myself fall into a state of dis-ease ever again. And here I am 6 years later, awash in a disarray of medical mystery. 

It took years of hard work and dedication to reclaim my health in my late twenties. Having diminished that almost completely by my mid-30s has left me mourning the loss of something that meant everything to me. Freedom from unnecessary daily suffering. I struggled my entire life with some autoimmune disorder or another, and for the most part I'd finally had them under control. I had found the will and desire to put in the effort to take the best care of myself that I could. I had shelter, a kitchen and a garden. I had learned to make do and thrive in an environment that was once killing me.

Then something happened. Well a bunch of things happened, a sudden change in my state of mind, my environment and my intention. I held onto the self care habits for as long as I could despite my situation, but somewhere along the way I lost the most important thing. My peace of mind.

I catch myself forgetting to breathe sometimes. Anxiety, guilt, depression.. internal things. Feelings I haven't dealt with following a series of traumas. And instead of addressing them, I've buried them in busi-ness and obsessive, damaging behaviours. I've been exporting my efforts into rearing animals and keeping gardens, yet failing to allow myself to fully benefit from the positive environment I'm attempting to create for myself. From the outside looking in, it appears that I should be healthy, but I'm not. I'm sick, and tired, and often and a great deal of pain.

I find myself mindlessly going through the motions of the day. Perhaps I have been stuck on autopilot more than I realized. I find that being more mindful in my actions and more specific in my intentions alleviates anxiety, but I have been forgetting to do this... I feel like I've spent this entire year just waiting for something. All the medical testing, sudden flare ups and fear of the unknown has me stuck in this vicious cycle of distracted inaction.

I'm taking a moment to recognize this, and to write it out as a reminder, and to share it for the sake of accountability. I owe myself better than my current experience. I deserve to enjoy the life that I have built up for myself without being stuck in the clutches of discomfort caused by a myriad of probably preventable health issues that could be avoided by diverting all of this stress. I need to flip the switch.


It's time to do better.

A timely pandemic

I'm not sure I want things to go back to normal. I don't think the normal we had was doing us much good. Many of us anyways.. myself included. I've been struggling with my health for years, and this past year has been the most turbulent. It's kind of crazy to even think it, but if it wasn't for this pandemic I may have never woken up to the reality of my situation until it was much too late.

I spent the better part of a week in the hospital on an Intravenous. My pancreas, liver and kidneys went haywire, and my stomach lining was all but gone. I had just experienced the most intense pain of my life, and all I could think about was the fact that I was missing work. I wasn't worried about my health as much as my responsibilities- job wise and financially.

Quite literally I would not have voluntarily applied for medical leave if it was not absolutely required of me at that time. If it were my choice, and I would have been able to proceed with screenings and treatment while still going to work, I would have opted to do so. Even though it hasn't worked for me in the past. Even though I was aware it would be difficult, uncomfortable and possibly dangerous. Even though the likelihood of healing would have been greatly reduced.

It's been 10 weeks, and only now am I beginning to realize how imperative it is for me to be in the best environment possible to heal. I'm not better yet. Hell, I haven't even been able to complete the screening and diagnosis process due to the covid. I've been waiting in limbo trying to figure out for myself what's happening internally so that I can begin to correct it. And honestly, now that I'm getting into it, I truly believe any sort of actual healing would not have been impossible otherwise.

Being mostly homebound, I have the time and mental space to really pay attention to what I'm doing hourly and daily, so that I can monitor how it affects me and my condition. The food I eat, how much and when. How much sleep I get, or don't.. whether I remember to drink enough water to satiate my kidney function..what hurts, what helps, which organs are affected by what,  what becomes inflamed when.

Moving into my eleventh week on the homestead, I'm finally starting to get a good idea. A touch of a grasp on what's happening to me. And even starting to figure out how to manage my condition to keep up with everyday life. Thing is, in order for me to maintain and continue in the direction of healing, the reality of everyday life for me must change.

...

I'm 35 years old. I have been working since I was 14. 40-60 hours a week all summer if I could, and weekends in the school year. The further into high school I got, the more I worked. By the end of school I ended up finishing early so that I could work full time. Not always did I have a place to live, but I always had means of supporting myself. And between work and school it didn't much matter where I spent the very few hours of down time in between.

By 22 I felt the burn. I opted for a seasonal rotation of employment- load up on hours for a couple months at a time so I could take a few months at a time off to travel. The traveling of course came with it's own work, for several summers I'd go to either the east or west coast to work until work ran out, chill for a few weeks to enjoy it, and come back home. Being transient lessened my expenses for certain things, so I spent a little less time doing hard labour so I could spend more time on the trails and in the trees.

It worked well for me for nearly a decade. But as I made a running slide into my thirties, it all caught up to me quickly. My body isn't as keen as it once was sleeping on the ground or in the back of a truck. My recovery time is longer, I need a bit more actual rest. Having a place to call home became imperative, and now it's finally time I take advantage of the opportunity- to use this time at Home to Heal.

...

But I can't go through all this just to come out the other side and go back to normal, the very normal that got me to this level of dis-ease and discomfort in the first place. Every job I've ever had has taken it's toll. It's the only kind of work I know, what I'm good at. Physical. Hard. Work. I'm in construction now, before that was landscaping and gardening on all scales. Before that was warehouse jobs, garden centers, even the photo lab was hard on the body with repetitive heavy lifting of the giant paper cartridges and photo chemicals that I now know had long term effects on my inner organs.

When I ended up taking a dive with my health I'd gotten myself down to 30 hour work weeks already, with 15 hours of driving on top. Though I had the right idea limiting my hours a bit, I don't think it was enough. Reality is though, maintaining a role in society requires an income. I've had a bit of a break from having to stress about that aspect of daily life for a minute, finally utilizing the insurance I've been paying into for years- but my time is almost up.

Now I must consider my reentry into the game. I have to make a decision- going back to what I was doing is not an option if I wish to also maintain my health. I can either go back to work very part time and find other means of supplementing my income, or consider long term disability while I further pursue my health paradox. Both options have their own sets of benefits and drawbacks, so I must carefully weigh my options in the coming weeks.


It's been a timely pandemic indeed. I refuse to let the lessons learned- about my health, job and food security go to waste. It's been an eye opening experience on many levels, and now more than ever, it's time for change.

Essential.

I'm one of the "lucky" ones whose job is considered essential. A couple weeks ago, my health began to fail me as I realized I was in the throes of a terribly painful autoimmune flare. My entire innards are inflamed and bleeding. Wedging me firmly into the "at-risk" category, as if I wasn't there already. For a couple weeks before all this, I was conflicted.. thankful I still have a job to go to, and afraid to go to work.

Just as I was leaving the hospital, my doctor called me. She'd received the reports from my weekend stay and had to check in. I explained to her what was going on and said, maybe I shouldn't be going to work.. I could hear her stand up on the other end of the line as her voice changed, realizing I was still going in..

Stay. Home.

That is what's essential right now. To not go to work and let my body heal. It took me more than a bit to accept this. And even though I have mostly come to terms with it, I keep pushing myself to feel good enough to last a full shift on my feet and moving. Some days are better than others. I've had two days this past week that amount to spending 90% of my time in bed, feeling like garbage.

As it turns out, my staying on the homestead has become my essential role these days. It's been an unusually dry, sunny April which means the freshly seeded beds need to be watered several times a day. Given the current state of things, our ever important food gardens feel extra critical to produce this season. I'm hardly surprised anymore to go to the grocery and not find things like carrots or fresh greens.

Speaking of food availability, another item that's been harder to find these days is eggs. As luck would have it, a friend has the hookups with a local free range organic flock and we're able to source a case of eggs a week to disperse to our neighbours. Not for profits, just for the accompanying joy and sense of accomplishment that comes with knowing you can help someone even in a small way. The experience in doing so has been one that will stick with me for years to come.

I feel the most essential thing to address right now for many of us is our mental health. It's not every day that every facet of our lives is affected by a global pandemic, and the effects unseen can be the most damaging. I spent 2 weeks having panic attacks about still having to work, and harder panic attacks about my job situation possibly shutting down. My body forcing me into taking leave had me scared about getting employment insurance, and even now receiving the funds has come with it's own pile of stress. It's imperative both for my recovery and to make it though this mentally, that I learn to chill the fack out.

To all my essential and frontline working friends, my heart is with you. Thank you for keeping us safe and fed. To my homies working from home, I'm glad you are safe. Please take good care. To everyone caught in the vortex of uncertainty, don't forget- we're in this alone, together. Don't hesitate to reach out if you need a friend to talk to.

I need a minute...

Life got real intense all of a sudden. The past year has been a complete whirlwind. Early in 2019 we were granted use of a five acre homestead, a field and a barn. We got a taste of working on a slightly bigger scale, and it challenged us to adapt quickly. Suddenly we had a couple pigs, then four, then eleven?! Along with an RV camper in the field next to a quarter acre garden. We had an opportunity to try growing dozens of crops we'd never had space for, including four varieties of potatoes and 27 kinds of heirloom tomatoes!

Somewhere along the line, our home base faced a threat and we were forced to figure out a backup plan. We scrambled to set up something somewhat livable in the field and figure out what to do with our belongings. Not a week later, we found out that the five acre acre homestead was also suddenly off the table. The renter that we were subletting the barn and field from was asked to leave after 15 years of renting- which was totally unexpected.

Our main focus at that point became very outward. We diverted all of our energy into looking for a new place to happen. At the height of our search we were presented with an opportunity that was impossible to resist- acreage, forest, orchard and pasture. Space to build, water on site, miles of potential and possibilities. But a completely blank slate.

In all of this, I've been waiting patiently to address my health more properly. After almost a year of waiting, I finally got the appointment that would start the ball rolling on getting a proper diagnosis. Admittedly, all of this finding my health stuff was tossed on the back burner with no chance of recovery in the near future.

Overwhelmed is an understatement. All of this on top of working in the city most of the week, having the farmer's market every Saturday during the growing season, and volunteering for the food waste diversion program every Sunday- life is very very full. My cup overfloweth...

We spent the fall and winter months pushing forward to collect materials and start rebuilding. Knowing that I was spreading my energy too thin, I allowed it. Embraced it.. and when I finally took that minute to take a look at my health, I got sick. Real sick. Perhaps if I hadn't drained myself of every drop of energy every day all season, it might not have hit me so hard. And of course in the thick of the sickness, our van sprung a leak.. and our well pump stopped working. Not having running water when sick is just as fun as it sounds. And the van needed fixing as if the extra expense was exactly what we needed.

So while I'm laid out here in bed, too exhausted to launder my clothes after a few days without water, too sick to take part in any of the rad plans I had this weekend, and too annoyed by the sound of my own wheezing to fall asleep... I reflect.

I need a minute.

That's a difficult thing for me to admit. I feel guilty for the things I miss, the work I'm not getting done, the people I might be letting down. I pushed myself too hard for too long and I'm paying for it dearly. I need time to think about my decisions, what I can do for myself, and what I might need to let go of. I need a minute to rest. 

Taking Back Time.

I'm having a hard time with something, I always have. And I know I'm not the only one. I'm just gonna come right out and say it- 40 hour work weeks are bullshit. When we were indie contractors, we basically made our own schedule. We would work when the materials/ stages were ready, and if we finished earlier we'd leave early, still getting the flat rate that we had billed for the job. Our jobs were completed efficiently and on time, and we still had time for our lives. Every once in a while we'd have to do long days to get a project finished, but for the most part, worked on average 30 hours a week. Unfortunately as indie contractors, the work wasn't always guaranteed, so we decided to seek out a company to hire us as a team. 

When we were hired by this company, we did our first week like 'normal' workers. We tried the 8-8.5 hour work days, plus the drive, plus our home and farm chores. The company had a sample of our work ethic, and we had a taste of 40 hour weeks on top of our busy half way homesteading life. Then we had our official 'on the books' hiring meeting. We explained how we love the work, take pride in our work, but can't fit a 40 hour work week plus commute into our lifestyle. Much to our surprise, they were more than willing to work with us, given the quality of work we provide.

It's been over a year. We have it worked out to have every other Friday off. We work 7 hour days, and a four hour day evey other Friday. We're paid biweekly, so we'd work a half day, get our checks, do our banking, groceries and errands with the rest of our 'shift'. 28 and 32 averages to 30 hour weeks, or 60 hour pays. Because of tax brackets and whatnot, we only make roughly 60-80 less a week missing those 10 hours. Let that sink in for a minute..

When we worked 40 hour weeks, we were making 600 more a month combined. But! We had 40 hours *less* time a month. Divide that up, that's only an 'additional' 15 bucks an hour... COMBINED. that means those 'extra' 10 hours a week, we were only taking home an extra $7.50 an hour each because working more hours meant we were making more money- and thus had more deductions taken. Plus we save on fuel and miscellaneous spending that happens when we go to work. After all said and done, we're basically giving those extra 10 hours a week away for free. Going to work every day costs time *and* money.

And to what advantage? The company doesn't get any more or better quality work out of me. In fact, longer days means I'm more exhausted the next day and production slows down. It's an observable fact that we as 30 hour a week workers get more done than the "full timers". The company benefits by getting the same or more and better quality work without having to pay for more hours. We get more hours a week to live our lives. Win, win.

There's 168 hours in a week. I spend roughly 50 hours a week sleeping or resting, that leaves 118. My 30 hours working, so 88 left. 13 hours average commuting takes us down to 75. 30 hours a week on farm chores, 25 left.. so if we were working 40 hour weeks, we would have 15 hours a WEEK of idle time. That's it. That's for extra projects, reading, shopping for stuff we need, volunteering, going for a walk, spending quality time together and with our animals, friends and family, leisure activities.. life outside of work. Real, life.

No....

No. That's not enough. This is our life we're talking about here, and we should really consider living life before we're too old to do anything about it..


I understand that it's my choice to have 30 hours a week of farm chores, gardening, working at home. But some people work two jobs to get that food, or to be able to afford various lifestyle choices. I choose to grow my food, and live this life. That's the kind of 'work' I'd rather do to keep myself fed. I'm not at all saying that my way is the right way, and everyone should work less so they can stay home and grow food. I realize that's not possible for everyone. What I'm saying is, I feel that we truly undervalue our time on this earth. And not just monetarily. Our hourly wages, is that really all we're worth?

Someone, somewhere at some point in time set this standard of living that many of us in this current societal structure have adhered to. I think it's about time that we reevaluate these standards as individuals. What do we really need in our lives? What are we paying money (and thus time) for that really doesn't benefit us? Is there some way we can shift our energy to be put into something more self-fulfilling instead of selling the best of ourselves to someone else and not getting an appropriate return? What can I do or create that I can use myself or sell/ barter/ trade for what I do need?

This is just the beginning for me. As my lifestyle shifts to one more rooted in nature, I am exploring more opportunities to be self-sufficient. I am working to shift to a more home-based means of accumulating income, and less of a need for one. When I envision 'retirement', I'm not old, leaving a company I've given my best years to, settling down and waiting to die. For me, retiring will be when my own life and how I live it provides enough abundance to no longer need to hit a punch clock on someone else's dream. The following 'meme' is basically a summation of what I'm getting at..

"My goal is to build a life
I don't need a vacation from"

That is essentially it. No one is saying anything about not having to work. A productive life will always require work. My goal is to get to a point where I only have to attend a "regular day job" enough to cover basic bills, and have the time I need to build, grow, seek and trade for the things I need myself. Put the effort, and time and hard work into my life, the land on which I live, and my community. For now, it is what it is. Slowly buy truly, we're taking back our time.

The Purge- Where to begin.

It's still strange to think about leaving this place. This little farmhouse on the Slough has been the first real tangible experience of home that I have had in my entire adult life. It's amazing what you can pack into 420 square feet, it's even more amazing what one can accumulate in just a few short years. It's time to start shedding the weight in more ways than one.

I don't know how I let myself get so cluttered. Life has a way of doing that... it was a bit overwhelming to think of at first. Where do I begin letting go? The obvious answer is within. I let my health get away from me. I'm carrying far more weight then I'm supposed to be. Both literally and everythingly... I need to get a few things off my shoulders.

I've been in this state of dis-ease before. There's no magic pill, there's no wonder diet. You have to want health to be healthy. So I'm starting the cleansing process with me. I'm doing everything I can to eliminate dietary stresses, and not allow external stresses that create extra weight. I love bread and cheeses and soy and all the delicious things I shouldn't eat having an autoimmune disorder. But no amount of delicious foods will ever be worth the pain and discomfort that I experience constantly if I include them in my diet. Sugar Cravings are real, caffeine Cravings are real... but I'm sick of the up and down, the peak and crash. I want to feel my best all the time and my body deserves what it needs to be healthy. And stress free.

Stress free is key, essentially. The next layer of stress to peel back is the one that surrounds me in my home. The space between myself and the four walls that contain me. We have accumulated a lot of things both together and separately. My folks brought me 11 totes of my entire history from Ontario which I have been systematically eliminating most of the contents of one by one. The idea of trying to store all of these things that I've been carrying around with me my whole life is extremely stressful, I have been doing my best to part with all and anything that does not spark Joy.


De-cluttering my home and my diet come hand-in-hand for me. I feel like I can't be successful with one if I don't also do the other. Because the impending move itself will be a big change with its own chapters of stress to overcome, doing everything we can to minimize our workload until then is critical. Both so that we can put the time needed into preparing our new site, and have a bit of an easier transition. Winter is coming, and I hear we are getting a real one this year.

The next zone to scale back is the one outside our house.. the hobby farm. Given that we will be starting from scratch at our next intended location, we decided to minimize our herd over the next few weeks. Starting with one of my favourite parts of hobby farming. The chickens. A few days after I came back from Ontario, our beautiful rainbow flock was decimated by a couple mink in one night. All of my rainbow layers, my new girls that I had been waiting several months for them to finally start laying Robin blue eggs, my favourite black Australorp... gone.

After two years of having chickens here and never having a problem with predators, we were confident that we had our Chicken Coop on lockdown. We quickly fixed the breach and caught the perpetrators, and haven't had a problem since. Unfortunately, all of the survivors but one are retirees that no longer lay. I had to make a difficult decision to re-home the flock. Given that they are no longer productive, it doesn't make sense for me to keep them as they are the most intensive animals that we have to maintain. When we are getting eggs, any of the expenses incurred would be gained back in their production. Having them here on our small hobby Farm is no longer sustainable. They will be moving along to greener pastures at the end of the month. I will really miss having them, but I'm confident that we will end up adopting a new flock when the time is right.

The pigs have got to go. Maybe we will keep a breeding pair and take them with us, but only if we're sure we can secure the infrastructure in time. The meat rabbits will be shuffled along to those who await. Clover might have to join us in the trailer for a while.

All of this in preparation for the ultimate purge- ourselves from this place. As much as we have put into this house and the land, it's time to move along. The house is old and falling apart, and we have outgrown the land as well as the relationship with it's owner. We'd grown too comfortable in these four walls and ignored the fact that maybe they weren't the best for us. We are grateful for the community we have connected with, and will happily take those bonds with us. Onward and Up....

Home and back- and a Health Crisis

It's been a crazy year. More big changes and intense happenings than I can count. I haven't been writing, and it bothers me. I suppose a part of the problem is I never know where to begin. Another being it's often hard to find the right words. And time management, and anxiety, and the list goes on. I'm taken aback but how quickly this year has passed. Time needs to slow down for just a minute.

I flew home on the 13th of September, Friday... A full moon. The entire Journey from take off- flight- and arrival, to departure and every moment in between was so critical in a shift that needed to happen within for me to find peace. Every person I got the chance to connect with reminded me exactly why I'm here and what I need to do to continue my journey. Thank you for that. So here's where I'm at...

It's no mystery that I've been struggling with my health. For those of you who have known me for a number of years probably remember the incredible health transformation I had made in my final years in Ontario. I was having next to no autoimmune flare ups, and I lost all the weight. All. Every unnecessary pound. I actually felt great most of the time, even my Endo was giving me a break. I blogged about it. I did well. I didn't eat a single crumb of bread. I made a green juice everyday, and after a year or so actually enjoyed them.

And then came a series of unfortunate happenings. Some really incredible ones too, but I experienced some dark times. I fell back onto old eating patterns because cheap (or free) available foods that kept well was all I could manage for a while. I was in a rough place financially, had just uprooted to a far off province, and of course.. lost my mother. Soon after uprooting, the house that I was staying in had a major mold problem (triggering my autoimmune shit) making me sick and homeless at the start of winter. The house was soon after condemned.

The intense spiral continued and I found myself under constant stress and frequent moments of anxiety. My body responded as it does. Sickness, inflammation and weight gain. I thought I had found my out when I found the little house in the country. After two years of not having a place to call home, I thought I'd struck gold. And I did in many ways. The community is amazing, and I couldn't have asked for better neighbours. And did I mention that million dollar view? At least a thousand times by now..

Unfortunately, the stress did not subside. Moving to the country in the middle of a harsh winter and not knowing anyone was a gamble. Still freshly self employed, every day of snow meant jobsite shutdown which meant no money. It snowed and snowed. The anxiety rocked me. Then not three months in to our tenancy in the little farm house, the landlord started with his threats. He had a problem with every little thing we did. This trend continued over the almost three years we lived there. Not being able to afford anything else (and loving everything about being there besides the owner), we decided to stick it out. Between his ignorance and constant use of poisons (without notice as he's supposed to before spraying), my stress levels and associated illness ran rampant.

But I was in denial. How could we find such a seemingly perfect place to be and yet have so many problems? It's a thing. I woke up every day for months with intense gut aches. It became my new normal. I continued with my challenge to find health. I started jogging in the evenings after work, I bought a juicer, I went to bed early. It seemed like I'd get somewhere for a little while, and then the struggle would intensify. I lost my energy. The daily aches and chronic fatigue caught up with me. I drowned it all out with distractions like farming and animals and volunteering for our local market.

This past summer I hit my Tipping Point. The truck had major problems. It cost a bunch of money to fix, but still not enough for it to be worth it to sell her. Having to take out a loan meant I would be getting short paychecks for a while, missing a few days lost me enough money that everything I had saved to fly home I had spent, and my folks ended up buying me the tickets to fly home. I was grateful for the wonderful gift, but at the same time horrendously anxious about leaving the farm and my job for that length of time with literally no money to spare.

It was almost a month to the day before I was supposed to fly to Ontario, when my landlord decided that evicting me was the best course of action for something we disagreed on. I was given 30 days notice, the day I was to vacate the premises was the day I was to land in Ontario. That was it. That was the straw that broke me. I was overwhelmed with sickness from the stress of the situation. I was absolutely devastated. On top of that, not three days later our Back-up Plan fell through and our friend was also evicted from the 5-acre property we had been slowly moving our farm to. By that point I was already in shock, and there wasn't much that would surprise me.

Going home was my saving grace. It couldn't have happened at a better time. My spirits have been uplifted. Spending time with my family was a good start in the healing process. Though I wasn't fully aware of what lied ahead in my journey to health, I'm 111% sure that I wouldn't have found the same kind of motivation elsewhere. I'm still tired. Everything still hurts. But you all reminded me that I will make it. That this journey is just another of my crazy adventures, and I'll figure it out. That under the pain and sickness, I'm still me.. Sadie Sea.

Stay tuned...

Monetarily Conflicted..

It feels like we're caught in the grasps of another 'careful what you wish for' scenario. When we're overloaded with work, we wish for time off. When we're out of work, well... it's a very conflicting feeling of relief- slowly smushed under the weight of anxiety. We've been going back and forth between working long days and having no work to go to for a while. We get all amped about having all these contracts lined up, and then as if by some strange godly sequence of coincidences, every single one of them is delayed for one reason or another. So here we are, broke, and on the homestead.. with no real idea when we will have financial stability again.

But that's okay... mostly. The rent may have to wait, my phone might get cut off, and I'm honestly shocked we still have the interwebs. Even though these things [and many others] are weighing in, it's really hard not to make the most of our 'days off'. The ever-growing list of to-do's on the side of the fridge has quite a few tick marks on it, and we've taken the opportunity in the good weather to begin prepping the animal enclosures for winter. These are things that *needed* to be done, and it feels good to finally have the time to do it.

We also had a very timely offer to make use of some land. Eerily timely in fact. The very last day we worked, we came home to a note on the door. "Come see me tonight!" From one of our friends up the road. He's granting us use of the barn and acreage in exchange for us maintaining the property "beyond the lawn". We have spent the majority of our time there the past couple weeks, clearing out the barn and surveying the available land.

In looking for odd jobs in the meantime, we've found several opportunities for barter. We helped disassemble a barn in exchange for all the materials we need to fix the barn we're using. We can trade a chimney install in an old cabin for possibly a fifth wheel trailer (or a car, but we're opting for the trailer!). We can move lumber in exchange for all the lumber we will need, and chop and load firewood to have a full winter's supply of our own.

Unfortunately, as awesome as bartering is, there's simply always going to be things that require that there mighty dollar. Proper feed for the animals for instance.. it's an expense that is unavoidable if we wish to keep them. For this purpose, and also in an attempt to recuperate all of the savings we had set aside to winterize the farm, we started a Go-Fund-Me. It was easily one of the hardest things to do in my life. Firstly to admit that we needed help, and mostly- to actually reach out. I already hadn't slept in weeks wondering what we were going to do once we were to reach the bottom of those feed bags. And then for days after setting up the fundraiser, I couldn't sleep out of guilt for asking for help. *sigh*.

That said, the fundraiser has already saved our little sanctuary for the time being. I am beyond grateful and forever indebted to everyone who has contributed for your kindness. I'm overwhelmed at the response we received right out of the gate. This will help to cover our operating expenses until we get back on our feet. We managed to make enough doing farm labour for our neighbours to cover the rent for October, and we are beginning to see a light at the end of the two year long tunnel.

The past two years has most certainly been two of the best, most productive and most fulfilling years of my life. We found an incredible community in which to live, a perfect little home with a view and certainly the best neighbours one could ask for. As far as finances go.. let's just say I've been in better financial standing- even in the years I spent living out of a backpack with seasonal employment. Money- and lack thereof- has been one of the biggest contributors to my incredibly destructive anxiety. Attempting to overcome that sickening feeling has been one of my greatest challenges.

I feel like that might be the point of the story. Like we have been stuck in this holding pattern lacking funds to make me realize that my life is not going to suddenly end if I'm late on my bills. To give us an opportunity to grow in so many other ways besides monetarily. To become hyper aware of the resources available around us that do not involve the exchange of dollars in order to obtain.

For weeks I've been waking every night around 3am unable to sleep any longer. The anxiety welled up inside me would boil over into my dreams and push me out of bed.  Then one day, it just... stopped. I'm not going to die of brokeness. There's too much abundance in the world to starve, there's places we can migrate to to find shelter. I found peace in the realization that perhaps money doesn't make the world go 'round. But kindness sure does.

Thank you all, so very much. For reading my blog, for saving our farm, and for sending good vibes and best wishes to help us through one of the most challenging times I've experienced. We can only go up from here. We will continue to pay it forward in our daily lives, to give back what we can to our community, and help as many as we can along the way. Thank you all for the uplifting reminder that there is strength in community. The boys say thank you, too.

Juneuary.. and sorta summer.

I can't even.. it's been almost two months since I've had a chance to write. June was.. strange. Cold. Like.. unusually cold. And rainy. Not that I'm complaining, but It's been an interesting season for the crops. My bro came to visit pretty well a month exactly after my folks had come and gone. The farm has been busy, work has been busy. Even our sworn 'church days' aka Garden Sundays have been infiltrated by laborious tasks when usually we try to stay home in the garden to enjoy nature's bounty.. and catch up from the week.

Three weeks into June we were thrown a bit of a curve ball. StarShip Delilah died on the side of the highway, luckily just off our road.. close enough to slowly limp her home. I wasn't ready for her to die on all levels. I had become attached to that little blue vessel. We were put out for a week in the process of finding her a replacement. Given that we had zero cash saved, and made it by on the gracious help from family and associates, we are now back on the road. Playing catch-up in the busy season though, has proven to be all kinds of exhausting.

All kinds. So effin tired.

I feel a little bit like we've bitten off more than we can chew. I'm up at 5am [well, if I can drag my arse out of bed that quick], and we might be lucky to take our work boots off at ten. We work metal in the daytime, farming in the evenings, and market on the weekends- and a landscaping gig whenever I can fit it in. I cheat and drive barefoot just to enjoy those moments of freedom from being shod. But besides that, my available time for self-care has been reduced to brushing my teeth while I'm taking my morning.. well, you know. I just can't bloody well find the time. And I'm suffering profusely for it. I did it to myself, though.. I did promise myself I'd find things to do. Now if I could just manage my time.

Between my autoimmune disorder dropping my thyroid into first gear, adrenal fatigue, the weight gain that comes with it, and the heat.. I'm just spent. Sleep is elusive yet I struggle to stay awake. Anxiety cranked to max, especially when city is involved. Something has to give. One thing I'd like to do less of, is spend all my time leaving our little town to go work for money that we wouldn't need so much if we didn't have to go to the city for work. Such a catch 22.

To gain a bit of balance, catch up on home and farm work, and spend a little less time on the road, we have decided that starting this week- Wednesdays are farm days. Be it here on the homestead, on one of our other sites, or down at the shop... we need more time to do our own things. Hopefully this will help to break up the week for me so that I can start to get my health back in order as well.

The goats are doing awesome. They are my joy, and our mascots on the farm. I never would have imagined they'd be so easy to train, and so well adapted to our space in such a short time. Which is good.. because the rabbits have proven to be a lot of work. It's still worth it for my partner to have healthy organic meat, but we need to work on tightening our system of caring for them so that it is far less time consuming. We're about half way there.

It's been a strange season for the gardens. Everything fruit finished early, and our vegetables are struggling to catch up. The heat this past couple weeks is pushing them finally.. I can't even wait to bite into my first vine ripened homegrown tomato. I swear I dream about it..
 
That's about all I've got for now. One of these days I'll have a moment to sit and write about it. About all the strange happenings and coincidences, the new opportunities that have shown up as if we had called them into existence ourselves, and all the weirdness in between. But for now it's Sunday, and I have a little more enjoying of that to do before we get back to business.

One Year Out Here.

One year ago tonight was our first night in the cabin. I still remember not being able to sleep, listening to every little thing. It's hard to believe time moves so quickly. I remember being so excited about 'cabin camping with the interwebs' which is my meme dream come true. I'm still just as excited, especially this winter having the wood burning stove. I remember wondering what are the chances.. in that very moment when I thought I'd take another look after over a year of searching, I'd find this very place. I never gave up hope to find a home.

I think it took me the entire year to get over the anxiety that comes with planting myself somewhere. I'm finally okay with having a home that's more than temporary. That, more than anything, was a critical step for me to stop the self-sabotaging reactions I have when things become "too comfortable". But I also believe that the nature of this place and the lifestyle that comes with it is a big part of why. On one hand it feels like home, no doubt about that.. on the other hand, it's kind of hard to be too comfortable. There's a delicate balance that must be maintained. Everything is hard work, and hard work is everything.. I like it that way.

When we first arrived, we had but a minivan full of various furnitures and another trip of all our gear and clothes. The only thing we had to sit on was a couple of folding lawn chairs. We have since collected many wares [mostly for free] to turn this cabin into home. We found a pile of bricks and built a fire pit, and constructed a compost bin [and two greenhouses!] from scraps. A couch from Craigslist, a tiny table and chair set perfect for the corner of our kitchen, a full sized smoke house, pots and pans and dishes- I even managed to score a television.. and suddenly, it looked like we lived here! We've even collected a few pieces of art for the walls. And the wood burning stove, my favourite piece [yep, free!] that completes the country cabin feel.

Winter was the perfect time to move here. We were introduced to our new home environment in the bone chilling cold, at the apex of the season. Being here to witness the transition as the valley turns from white to green was exciting, especially with perfect timing to plan and till the land. Most of summer was spent shrouded in wildfire smoke, and the mountains disappeared for quite some time. Thankfully our home and our crops were safe, and we enjoyed collecting a bountiful harvest late into fall. Speaking of, autumn here was the most beautiful autumn I've ever seen. Rainbows and vivid sunsets were almost daily events.

Our first garden was abundant.. perhaps a little too abundant! This was the first garden in a long time for both of us, and we went a little overboard on planting seeds. Unfortunately, we didn't thin the crops as well as we should have. I always feel bad picking a perfectly good plant, but I've learned [again] that it must be done for a healthy [and accessible!] garden.

Now we've come full circle. We've weathered two major winter storms, a very high freshet, many windstorms [and one ripping monsoon], and the skies are ever changing. I never tire from the ever changing view in my back yard. The landscape is always colourful even in winter. I especially enjoy sunny days when the bare blueberry bushes gleam a rich red against a snow dusted green mountain backdrop and a bright blue sky. The view still has the capability to take my breath away.

I'm looking forward to year two. Garden season is coming up fast, and it's almost time to pull the boat back out from storage. It will be a big year of hard, satisfying work to make our home and lifestyle more sustainable. Now that I'm fairly established as a housed individual [and finding comfort here], it's time to get back on top of my journey to good health. I've done it before, and now with the support that I have and a comfortable place to do so, I will do it again. For life this time.

journalog 1-7-18

It's quiet out here. Well, sort of... It became quite loud all of a sudden yesterday, and just as quickly it was done. The several inch thick layer of ice on the roof let go in an instant- weighed down with snow and then rain. When it crashed onto the awning separating it from the house, it sounded like we were run over by an avalanche.

We got up at first light today to venture over to the other farm. Our land owner had a stash of materials we could use to repair the awning, the only challenge was getting to it. He ran the tractor to dig out a path to the barn, and we loaded Delilah's roof racks with lumber while taking in the view. The warmer temperatures and slight breeze brought in a fog that made our mountain backdrop disappear in sweeping brushstrokes.

The awning adventure and getting a fire going was our excitement for the day. Cabin fever is a thing, and we're getting a little restless. We're going on our tenth week without steady work. Putting around the property when the weather allows to keep ourselves busy. We seek out downed branches we can buck up for the woodpile, and make our way out to the general store every few days to keep up on the social and make sure the van runs.

It's been a challenge to be at total peace with our situation. If we were truly remote, off the grid and not so reliant on finances, we'd be much more comfortable with what we have. The fact that we have to pay for the space that we occupy monthly is the part we're having troubles with. We've managed to find odd cash opportunities here and there to get a few bills paid, but it's been tight.

I'm glad that we stored up as much as we did for the winter. Every trip to town we made through the summer I chose an essential to buy in bulk. We've used a decent percentage of our food stores though, and we're edging on 'uncomfortably low'. We're getting into our last can of coffee, jar of honey and bag of sugar. The frozen fruit stores are well below half, and we've made a sizeable dent in our veggies. Our cupboards are fairly light, though we do still have a decent amount of rice and flour. Three weeks from now, we'll be setting into 'desperately low'. It's essential that we get steady work soon. Garden season is still a couple months away.

Hibernating hasn't been a total bummer though. I couldn't have imagined a better place to be holed up in for the winter. Something tells me I wouldn't be as settled being so long without work if I were living in the city. I know this from experience. After one week without a job I lose it- city living is costly on the daily and it's hard to avoid.

Out here the shift in priorities makes not having steady work much more bearable, even enjoyable at times. There's so much to do to maintain the cabin and the property- especially in storm season.. it's enough just to make it through the day without a panic attack. When you're more concerned with staying warm and making sure your home isn't destroyed by the weather, having a couple bills a few months overdue doesn't seem so pressing. There's no real worry to get anywhere on time if you can't get anywhere at all.

Also the view ain't half bad. We find enjoyment and satisfaction in the beautiful simplicity of country living. We could sit for hours watching the fireplace, and bundling up to go for a walk down our road is a scenic nature tour. Watching the eagles by day and listening for owls at night is a delightful blessing. Maintaining the house is more than just chores, it's fulfilling and satisfying that we are free to enjoy our own space as we choose.

I feel very fortunate to be here. There are far more challenging places I could be while broke in the middle of winter, like tenting in the woods. We may not have access to some basic luxuries, and it may get a little uncomfortable at times, but as Erik Salitan says, "excessive comfort is detrimental to one's character". There is always peace to be found amidst the chaos. There's always so much to be grateful for that it outshines the not-so-glamorous aspects of living a transient sort of lifestyle.

I anticipate getting real busy real soon with work in the field and in the garden, so I'm doing my best to savour the downtime. I've made one of my goals for the year to be better organized in my writing and little photography projects so my ideas and images don't get buried forever. As always, thanks to everyone reading this, for always sending words of encouragement and support. And a HUGE thank you to everyone who contributed near and far by ordering smelly things from my website, and sending us Timmies bucks and lunch cards. Your generosity and thoughtfulness truly warmed us! All the love.

xo

New Year- Old World

There's nothing like ringing in the new year in the dark. Our region was slammed with an epic ice storm a few days after Christmas, taking out trees and power lines in it's wake. It's been over a week and there's still power lines dropping, and outages all over the map. Thankfully we were given a generator last year "just in case". After the first wave of the storm we made sure that it was running, set it up and built it a makeshift shelter, and ran power cords back into the house. And thankfully so, as when the second wave hit, everything was covered in ice and the power went out for a very long time.

The first couple days, we didn't bother to leave the house. Standing on our front porch, you couldn't count to twenty without hearing a tree come crashing down in the distance. We passed the time with a week-long cribbage tournament by candlelight, storytelling accompanied by a sketchpad, and mulling about the property. Our sea can workshop got a much needed cleaning, and we burned all our cardboard and wood scraps we'd been collecting throughout the year.

Day three, we were called out to work. Given that it's been two months without anything steady, we weren't about to say no to an opportunity to make a little loot. The drive kept us on our toes. In order to get off our road, we had to stop the van every thirty feet or so to clear fallen branches from the giant cottonwoods. I kept the van in gear and ready to move while he quickly cleared a path as branches were still falling all around us. It was a slow drive towards town, dodging fallen trees and ice bombs. It was one of the most absolutely beautiful sights i'd ever seen when the sun hit the ice covering everything, the landscape shone like a spotlight party in a chandelier shop.

When we finally arrived in town it was utter chaos. No street lights, cars abandoned on the roadside, power lines downed and roads closed left and right.We gave it a couple more days before our next venture in to town. This time we needed supplies and fuel, so we had our fingers crossed we would find at least one grocery store open whose shelves were not yet cleaned out. I was excited to see that our produce market had it's doors open for business. They like most other places had lost the products kept in coolers after not having power so long, but we were there for the basics. Potatoes and fruit mostly, things we hadn't grown ourselves.

Everywhere we go, we tend to talk to strangers, so it was no surprise that we'd gotten into a full blown conversation about the current situation while shopping for our fruit. We brought up how lucky we were that we lived in a small place, so it was enough to run a generator with a small space heater and a hot plate. If we needed water from the well we could plug in the pump and we're all set. He told us how it felt like going back in time, the kids had fun playing in the snow, and the family actually sat together to play some board games. We talked about how useless all those big fancy homes are without the services running to them, they'd be impossible to heat being so big, and their inhabitants would be better off setting up a tent outside during times like this.

Heating the house was our main challenge. If we don't keep the house warm when it's below freezing the pipes will burst, and we'd have a lot more problems than sitting in the dark. When we met up with the landlord to pay the rent, we were discussing alternate heating options inside the house, and he said he was thinking of propane. I'd mentioned how the stack for the chimney was still installed and it would be awesome if we could put a wood burning stove back in it's place. He'd removed it because he was worried about the previous renters not using it right and it sat in storage a couple years, but we were stoked that he still had it. We were stoked to take it home.

By the time we got the wood burner installed, the power was back on for the most part. It was a couple day process of getting it to working order, outdoor and indoor test runs, building it a pad and getting it in to place, but it was well worth it. We spent yesterday afternoon cutting up and collecting branches from our road that had fallen in the ice storm. it's cottonwood which doesn't have the best aroma coming from the chimney outside, but it burns slow and hot. The cable had come back on around the same time we'd lit the first fire inside, but who needs television when you have flames dancing in your kitchen. We sat with our coffee and tea for hours admiring the heat.

Between not having much work and being thrust into a mini ice-age, this winter has been a very humbling and sobering experience. It's amazing what we take for granted when we have it, and not realize. This experience has reminded me how important it is to be prepared for the seasons and what they may bring. In summer we need to remember to slow down and keep cool, and save as best as we can for the winter [including firewood!]. This coming year we will make different [and hopefully better] choices of our resource allocation, of both moneys and produce. When winter rolls around we have to be keen about being prepared for what ever crazy weather mother nature might bring.

What I've really enjoyed about this winter is the feeling of having gone back in time a century or two, which has been the theme of our experience out here so far. I'd like to continue that trend in as many senses as possible while still maintaining our place in society. It's motivation to become better resourceful as we slide a little further off the grid. The part that's irked me is the lack of funds and our need to be reliant on money. My desire to slide a little further off that grid is strong.

The first five days of the year have been interesting that's for sure. Major triumphs and letdowns, wins and huge losses with impact-full messages, and the year has just begun. This is just the beginning, more to come.. I feel good about this one. Happy 2018 from the cabin on the slough. May 2018 be the best year yet..


xo

[Merry] "C" word.

For the majority of my life, the feelings most associated with Christmas are anxiety, sadness and guilt. It's never really been an easy time of year. This is my fourth Christmas since my mother passed away, and since I moved west. And it's my first Christmas I've made an attempt to write about it.

I feel like every Christmas since I moved west has been sort of a step-by-step healing process of making peace with the season. And as I'm sitting here trying to write about it, I think I just realized a big part of the reason why. I've had absolutely no cash with which to participate in the commercial Christmas the last 4 years.

That and being so far away I have no place to be, so if I want to spend the day wandering in the woods or lounging in my PJs, I may. I miss family dinners and seeing everyone together, but that part of the holidays gets harder for everyone as people pass on or move away. And now I know what it feels like to be the one that moved away...

My first Christmas out west was an interesting shock out of the whole traditional holiday season. I had nowhere in particular to be, no one in particular expecting me, and it was a gorgeous sunny day. I went for a walk on the downtown east side, and made a friend whose feelings about this time of year resonated with my own. We spent the day together roaming the parks and streets making merry and enjoying the holiday lights.

The whole experience changed my perspective enough to no longer fret for the holidays. That shift was critical to my survival in a far away place. The reality of moving so far away is simply this: "home for the holidays" is seldom a feasible option. But that means, everything else is.

My second Christmas was spent with a couple friends, a dog, and a pickup truck on the mud flats down by the lake. It was a gorgeous, yet frozen sunny day, perfect for a Christmas bonfire. That was the beginning of basically living the rest of the winter in said pickup truck, and it was a beautiful, humbling reminder to be grateful for what I've got. There was something incredibly satisfying about spending a Christmas out in nature. I loved it so much, it has since become my tradition.

For my third Christmas in BC, my partner and I skipped town to go fishing. We drove to several spots to enjoy the winter view, and ate cold pizza for lunch on the hood of the van while watching the sun dance across the snowy river.

We were both invited to his family gathering, even though they didn't know me that well. I was nervous and awkward, but once I was introduced, it was nice to be included in a family atmosphere. We were both squatting in his family's trailer at the time, and though it was nice to have a warm and dry place to sleep at night, we wished for a home of our own.

A couple weeks later, after months and months of camping, couch surfing and trailer squatting.. our Christmas wish came true. We found our tiny farmhouse in the valley.

Neither of us have been big fans of the holiday season, and we're glad to have one another to enjoy the escape into the wilderness. This year to keep up with our tradition of spending the holidays in nature, we took a Christmas eve hike into the woods behind our land. We're so broke this year we couldn't afford fuel to get out to our good December fishing spot, but it was really cool to see what kind of wildlife we could track in our own backyard. I'm glad that we were grounded as we got to experience our local area from a perspective we never had before, which we both enjoyed.

We woke up Christmas morning in our own home. My first Christmas here was in a hostel, the second in a pickup truck in the woods, and the third was out camping whilst squatting in a trailer. Despite having no money, no way to buy gifts or travel far, I couldn't be more grateful to wake up in our very own little home.

Christmas in BC has changed the holiday experience for me. I have no space to hold onto the guilt or sadness. I'm forced to be present, in the moment. Having my partner by my side and living in the place I've always dreamt I'd be is a special gift to me.

Thank you all, near-ish and far for all your love and well wishes this holiday season- and the lovely holiday card collection hanging on our wall. I wish everyone peace and joy and good things in 2018!

Xo

Yet still hopeful..

I should be overwhelmed with anxiety right about now.. I just can't let it eat at my brain anymore. Looking back over the past few years of blog posts I noticed a couple of things. One, there is a fairly consistent pattern of ups and downs, and second.. I wish I wrote more. And thirdly, I seem to have predicted every change somehow. Could have been keen sense or lucky guesses, who knows.

Right now, I'm blank.. it's hard to say which way this will go. Since being a subcontractor work has never been so slow. There was so much work this summer we were turning jobs down.. even last year at this time we were swamped. This season was a killer combo. We lost one big contract that would have held us over all winter as it was postponed. Then the next one we got we lost money on HUGE. And now we've been waiting two weeks for a job that was due to start mid November.. today was supposed to finally be the day we begin. And nothing. 

*sigh*

There's one week til Xmas, and we were hoping to be able to spoil my partner's kids a little. Last year was rough for both of us but we managed to pull something together. This year we're praying just to make it through. Thankfully we'd hoarded most of the recycling we accumulated this year in the shed, and made two trips to town to cash it in.. 160 bucks in cans and drink containers. We were able to get a couple bags of produce and a tank of gas, with a few bucks to stash for emergency. 

But that, unfortunately, won't cover the rent. Or the hydro, or insurance.. Or any of the other crap that ties me in. 12 days till the end of the month and I'm praying for a miracle. We've thankfully found a few day jobs to keep us afloat but nothing major. This isn't the way I'd expected things to go, but then again, it's my life which is nothing short of unpredictable. 

The past week or so I've felt so guilty that we might lose out on this place that I've barely been able to leave it. With any bit of rain (and there's been lots) I hide inside as if to savour the roof over my head keeping me dry instead of bothering to venture out from under it. I've been using this as an excuse in my mind to sit inside.. pondering if perhaps we should be using up what's left of our food stores as to not waste it in the case that we might have to pack up and live in the van.

...

I can't foresee- after everything that's happened to get me where I'm at- that this is all over. I refuse to pack it in, I'm not giving up. Something must give. We will find the miracle contract. We will make the rent. Our little farm will live on.. somehow.

I finally got up out of my puddle of depression and went for a walk this morning. I reveled in the mystical beauty of the rainclouds dancing around the mountaintops threatening to snow. I stood in awe of the massive eagles and heron as they effortlessly sailed between the trees right beside me and the mountains way off in the distance. I took many deep breaths while I watched the ducks bob about in the water.

Something happens when suddenly everything is under threat of being lost or ending. Reality seems more real. Food has flavour that floods in memories. The feel of rain on the skin, the smell of the air... Moments seem to drag on for eternity. There's a quiet and a stillness that is peaceful inside the chaos. Time stops.

And then it catches up with you..

...

Tomorrow is a new day. Today, I'm hopeful.