The place I moved from last June, was affectionately known as “The Magic Box,” as it was literally a giant metal rectangular building with a huge roll top door. It was a lovely and most-convenient place, where I held amazing events and could even drive my beloved Ruby right in and park her while I lived in other countries for extended periods of time. However, there wasn’t access to walkable nature and that big metal box just didn’t have enough light. But it did have an easy paved road, lightning-fast internet, and an industrial-sized, remote-controlled split unit that kept it cool and toasty warm.
Well, roll the tapes forward a few months and here I am, preparing for winter living at a 4100’ elevation cabin, up a long, steep, rocky road with nothing but killer views and a fancy wood stove. I’ll be honest, after I first moved up here, I was wondering just what in the hell I was thinking and if I had finally just lost my marbles. After purchasing a used AWD stick-shift and having three cords of wood delivered, I felt a lot better about being so isolated and residing a solid hour’s drive to anywhere named on a map.
I have had a *little* experience using a woodstove, and I certainly have had plenty of practice starting campfires, so I’m sure I will be proficient in no time. I have quickly (ummm… nearly instantaneously) learned the correct way of stacking firewood and the most definitively wrong way of doing it. After stacking the first pile (incorrectly), I discovered I was only one roly-poly log away from an avalanche that could take out my dryer vent and the outdoor spigot. The learning curve may be steep but it’s also short. Ha!
Toward the end of this overwhelming chore, (Did you see the photo of that giant pile of wood?? Thankfully I had help from my neighbors!), I found a flow in stacking wood that can only be described as peace. It was as if each piece was speaking to me and telling me where to fit it in, like an ancient puzzle. And suddenly, it felt like I had been doing this all my life. I have heard references to the profound peace that comes from the ritual chores of simple living. Well, today, I got it.
I have purchased a few tools for splitting wood and the general upkeep of a rustic cabin in the woods. My new favorite toy is a kindling splitter. Who knew chopping kindling could be so fun… and even downright cathartic!?! Whacking at a giant chunk of wood with a sledgehammer is one seriously therapeutic stress-reliever! And if you yell and yahoo loudly while doing it, it works even better. Thankfully, my closest neighbor is over a half mile away.
The truth is, I have dreamt of living this life for what seems like forever. I believe when our dreams show up, even if it’s scary as hell, we must run, not walk toward them, like we have nothing to lose. Five months into this whole wild mountain woman existence and I couldn’t be happier!
