Playing house.

When I was a kid, my friends and I used to play house. We'd set up a space in the basement or backyard to be our living space, and pretend to be adults running a little household. The kitchen was always the main focus, the hub of activity. As it should be. Having this place reminds me of those days, as I set up my living space and unpack a set of dishes that was given to me. It felt like Christmas morning unpacking all those goodies. The crockpot and toaster oven the most exciting to unwrap.

Washing dishes makes me smile. I feel like a big kid playing with my new toys when I load the laundry machines. It brings me great joy to sweep the floors and make my home tidy and cozy and clean. After several years of either not having a place of my own, or living in a dilapidated shanty that could never be made cozy and liveable no matter how hard you try, this house is such a blessing.

I was lucky enough to inherit a TV from a friend that moved back home, all his kitchenware, and a sweet reclining front porch chair. We picked up a couple comfy corduroy chairs for the living room for 25 bucks, and a freecycled tiny little dining set that fits nicely in the corner. I'm dreaming up what colour I'll paint the walls.

There's a decent sized steel storage bin out back, already equipped with a couple of shelves and cupboards. It appears that it used to be someone's workshop, and it shall be once again. Next month I'll start picking up what tools I need to get the gardens going, and thankfully have a safe dry place to store them.

I've drawn out our yard and mapped the approximate patten of the sun. The next step will be to decide where to plant everything and how big to make the main garden area. There will be a 20x20 foot space for the main bed, and we may build raised beds for the leafy greens, carrots and smaller root vegetables. It's like designing my own little world out in the valley.

As long as I can make the rent, that is. The only thing that sucks about being a contractor is having no guaranteed pay days. I have more than enough owed to me to cover the next month's bills, it's just a matter of getting it all together on time. Fingers crossed it all works out.. the adventure continues.


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Taking it all in..

Finally after a week of living in our new home, we had a weekend off. And decent weather too. He stepped out on the porch with his coffee calling back into the house.. 'quick, bring your camera'. There were several eagles hanging out on the frozen river. It's the first morning we've had yet to just hang out on the front porch and enjoy simply existing in our new place. It seemed as though the local wildlife was celebrating.

We all were. The first day of the year with double digit temperatures that weren't in the negative. The sun even came out for a while to warm our bones. Standing in front of the house in the middle of the road, I still have a hard time believing that this place is my home. I get to build here, to grow.

I had my chance to see what was hiding under the snow, and there's much more space for gardening than I thought. I'm not sure yet what I want to grow or how to lay it out, but I do know that both sunflowers and leafy greens are a must. I'll need to start slowly accumulating gardening tools of my own so that I can get started prepping the land. There's lots of bramble to be cleared and debris to be raked up.

For us, aspects of regular life are a huge part of the adventure. Having housing stability is a newish thing. We have both been essentially floating for a long time. To have a place to nest and garden and enjoy the basic comforts of having our own home is still taking some getting used to. Things that most people in the western world take for granted are true blessings to us.

That said, the compromises that need be made for living partly off-grid aren't a huge inconvenience as we're used to having to make do, it's kind of like cabin camping with Netflix. I'm still in shock that we were able to get the Internet, and as the weather is still quite chilly, we're very grateful to be able to curl up to a movie in the evening, even if the only screen we have is my little laptop. So what if we have to boil water to do dishes and limit showers to five minutes. Who cares if we have to travel half an hour to the nearest grocery store. We are home.



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misty morning

The coyotes woke us long before sunrise. I could hear the rain playing it's tune on the old chimney hood. It hasn't stopped for a couple days, and it's making quick work of melting all the snow. Soon we will see what we have to work with space wise for building our gardens.

As daylight slowly crept into the valley I took a peek out the window. The clouds are low and the fog is still hanging around. The usually dry creek at the end of the road is nearly flooded, and some of our neighbors have unintentional ponds in their front yards.

I'm starting to get used to the silence and the sounds that echo through it. The view however catches me off guard every morning. I'm not sure how long before it gets old, probably never. And I'm alright with that.

Our house is slowly becoming a home. We adopted two comfy salmon coloured corduroy chairs for the living room from a church store back in town, both for 25 dollars. We have just enough kitchenware to make us a meal, a mattress for a bed, and a brand new washer dryer set. After a few long days without hot water, the tank was finally replaced.

I took one last walk around the house, turning out all the lights, envisioning the future of our space. Friday, to my surprise, we will have the Internet. There's one service provider that just happens to have older lines run out our way, which to me is amazing. It won't be the fastest, but it's something. And now that we know it's possible, we couldn't wait.

As I stepped out the front door I couldn't help but to take another picture. The view across the street took my breath away. Again. We are so blessed to call this place our home.

xo

The first night.

I'm having a hard time sleeping. I mean, what else is new right? Haha. I've lived and camped and slept in a bunch of different environments, and this is going to take some getting used to. The silence is loud somehow. It's so quiet out here that every little sound carries at night.

I jumped out of bed five minutes after getting into it because I thought I heard someone coming through the front door. It was just a strange sound coming from the radiator in the living room. When I opened the bedroom window it squeaked from the cold and not being open in so long, and I could hear the sound echo off the mountains behind us.

One sound I'm kind of glad I can hear is the passing trains in the distance. It's somehow comforting and reminds me of home. I could hear the snow geese honking as they flew over the river in our front yard at sunset. I can hear everything and nothing all at once. It's wonderful.

The night is dark. Actually dark. I can't wait to see the sky on a clear night without the city light pollution. I bet it's beautiful. No street lights on our side of the river. No cars honking, no traffic, no sirens at all hours. The warm smell of wood burning stoves lingers in the crisp winter air.

Our boxes are stacked at random, I have no idea where anything is, and we're sleeping on a mattress on the floor. The water pump doesn't get hooked up till morning, but I don't care. We didn't want to wait one more day. We're here, we're home. Finally. We're safe and warm. And right now in this very moment, that's all that matters.

I'm excited for tomorrow. To begin setting up our space. I'm excited to nest, to spend the rest of winter designing gardens for the spring. I'm stoked to grow, to wander and explore.  I can't wait to walk down my road with my telephoto in hand to shoot epic photos of the eagles that hunt along the river. I'm too occupied dreaming of possibilities to turn my brain off long enough to get some rest. I'll settle in eventually, and this place will become the new 'normal'.. but for now I'm just gonna soak it all in, and enjoy the fresh start. And the view.


Cheers!

Lost and found

Yeah, I'm aware it's just a shirt. And yes, perhaps I put too much value in some of my material possessions, considering I'm not a very materialistic individual. A lot of what I own would be considered worthless junk to most, but to me it's all about the memories.

But that shirt though.. not only was it the memories, it was also just the most perfect shirt for outdoor adventure on cold days, for working outside in the fall and winter, and for days I want to laze around in my track pants and be comfortable. It's a lightweight, warm and comfy long sleeve black thermal shirt that just happens to fit me perfectly. Over tees, under hoodies, it's the perfect intermediate layer. It doesn't hold dirt or smells, so I can get away with wearing it most of the week without washing.

I stole it off a friend by accident when I was visiting Nova Scotia. I was couch surfing and had all my gear scattered about, and being a plain black shirt, it blended right in with the rest of my wardrobe. After denying for a couple weeks that I had unknowingly taken it, I found it in my laundry when I finally unpacked. Not knowing when I'd see my friend again or the east coast, it became a part of my daily ensemble. Sorry man, I took your shirt after all.

Every fishing trip, road trip, camping trip and hike, I've had that shirt with me ever since. I'd worn it on our Christmas morning fishing trip, and when I went to put it on for work the next day, I couldn't find it. I searched everywhere. Over the next few days I'd pretty well ripped apart the house and the van in search of this shirt. More than a week later I had given up, and my fella's aunt overheard us discussing my frustration about losing things. She asked what I lost and as I described the shirt she says uhhh oh...

Oh no. I had a feeling that was coming. I thought she was gonna say she'd donated it to the goodwill.. I've had that happen with my things before. Nope, it wasn't accidently donated. It ended up in a small heap of sweaters and jackets that family members had left at the house over the holiday weekend. Auntie had assumed it belonged to one of her daughters, and passed it off when she returned a jacket.

She said she'd go pick it up for me. She phoned to ask if it was there, but it just happened to be laundry day. Her daughter drops off her laundry at her boyfriend's mother's house as they don't have machines, so I'd have to wait until their laundry returns to find out of it's even there. After a couple weeks I had to let it go. The shirt was gone.

I'd gone to a few different thrift stores in search of something similar, but I could never find anything that fit quite the same. Too big or too small, or the sleeves are too tight.. where did this shirt even come from in the first place? I have no idea.

I was packing my clothes in preparation for the upcoming move, and auntie comes home with my shirt in hand. Yup, that's the one! I couldn't believe it. I swear I had dreams about searching for this shirt. Now that I have it back, I feel complete. My work shirt! Yes! Thank you universe! Haha. So I wrote this entire blog post about a silly shirt, that's right. Now that I'm moving out to the boons, I finally have it back. I had to resist the urge to jump for joy about it. Out in the cold valley, it'll keep me safe and warm. I'm happy to have it back. That is all.


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Reflect-ions... and moving forward.

The papers are signed, and about a week from now the keys will be in my hand. Though I've been doing everything I can to prepare for this coming move, it's all so suddenly hit me. Not just what's coming, but the entire journey up to this point.. starting on the coast having no idea what I'd do or where I'd end up. Taking life one day at a time has taken me on some incredible journeys, unlike anything I could have planned for if I tried. And I like it.

I'm so glad I kept this blog. Moments are fleeting, and having something to look back on revives the feelings from those moments so that I can better appreciate the triumphs and struggles along the way. It hasn't always been easy.. in fact it probably hasn't ever been easy, but well worth every second, every step. I wouldn't take any of it back. It's hard to believe at times, like it's all been one long-ass crazy dream that I have yet to wake up from.

A house. A home. For real this time. Not just a room in a place, or a couch or a mat on someone's living room floor, not an apartment or a basement suite, not a tent or a truck bed or the back of a van. A real, tiny little house. On farm land, in the mountains, down by the river. Not that I never appreciated any of those other forms of shelter.. this is just.. different. It's still hard to fathom, to imagine my impending reality. I've waited what seems like forever for a chance like this. Even if only for a little while, I will enjoy it thoroughly.

It's pretty well off the grid. We're lucky to have electricity, the only service run out that far. The water is from a well, and there's no sewer. We will have no cable TV, no curbside pickup, no fast food on the corner. I'm stoked and kind of nervous all at once. It's a commitment, to keep a steady income in our unpredictable situation, to keep a reliable vehicle on the road, to one another. We'll be essentially stuck out there together, alone.

I can't wait.

This week I know will fly by fast. We're doing all that we can to prepare, but the biggest thing right now is collecting pay for all the work we've been doing. Contract work only pays when the work is done, and when you're waiting on other contractors to finish their part so you can finish yours, it gets a little nerve racking. It's hard to 'save up' for anything in a place where the cost of living is barely achievable, hence the decision to move somewhere cheaper. We have to get there first.

Next step will be finding a bed, and stocking the cupboards as best we can. Baking goods, rice, canned vegetables and soups will be our first trip, to augment fresh foods we collect along the way. It will be like going back in time almost a century, which in my opinion, is exactly where we belong. Our fishing rods will always be readied for a catch, and acquiring hunting licenses is on the list of to-dos.

The most exciting part for me will be building garden beds. The land owner agreed that I can do as I wish in those regards, as long as what I use is all organic. No problems there! Once the trust is established, I get a key to the gate to watch over the fields. I'll have access to the back end of the farm, to keep an eye on the irrigation and collect some of those sweet blueberries if I please. If this is just a dream, don't bother waking me...

Talk to Strangers. [part2]

I wouldn't say I'm an incredibly social individual, neither is J. We're not the type you'd find in a club or at a house party. Even on the river, not everyone who fishes is our 'type' of people, we mostly keep to ourselves, but we do make sure to always say hello. Because, really.. you never know.

We were having a fire down by the river, and an older couple walked by us on the path. 'Care to join us?' J asked.. the couple kept walking. 'It's nice and warm over here..' They stopped and looked around. 'Oh sorry, didn't realize you were talking to us. No one ever says hello these days.' So true. Most people in our generation would continue past, no hello, even do their best to avoid eye contact. They joined us by the pit for a little while and we had a decent conversation about the area, people, and the world these days.

Campfires are a great place to bring people together. Every time we have one, we invite someone over, or help others nearby get theirs going, offer kindling or starter or leftover wood, and every time we get the same reaction. People are generally stunned to have someone make such a gesture. Is this really what society is coming to? Have we become so cold that kindness is completely unexpected? You never know when something so simple as saying hello, or offering a family the rest of your firewood when you leave your spot could totally make someone's day.

Anyways, all I'm saying is, don't be afraid to talk to strangers. You might find that they're not so strange.


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