The oldest inhabitant on our property - a 100+ year old ponderosa pine
The first thing that springs into my mind each morning is the neverending chore list. With the holidays coming up, that list seems to grow exponentially. Our house is heated with a wood stove that needs constant attention during the winter. The indoor temperature will start in the 50′s in the morning before reaching the high 70′s by the time we go to bed at night. Snowfall at 7000′ can be fast and heavy and snow melt impossibly slow nestled here in the trees – ice dams are a constant threat. The dirt road wreaks havoc on our vehicles when muddy. Our driveway – the length of a football field – can be an intimidating chore to clear of snow even with a tractor. A quick run out to the supermarket requires at least one and a half hours.
But…
At night, the only sound to be heard is the odd barn owl hooting, or a vagrant pack of howling coyotes, or sometimes nothing at all. From my house, I can hear a hum from the alpacas now and then in the barn and even when they’re having a particularly vociferous spit fight. I can walk around my own property without intrusion when I need to think. I can have animals that live as closely to me as I wish, and remind me what is real. I can see every star that is out at night without city lights obscuring the view. When I come home, it’s a haven that buffers me from the outside world not just with drywall, but with real estate.
Rafe wants to know when he can move out of quarantine
Shao Mai, queen of the barn, surveys her domain from the roof
My urbanite sister finds our lifestyle scary and eerie. She likes the press of people around her, the white noise of the city, and the security of local services, instantly responsive to her phone call. She likes to wing in and out of her house without forethought, the mall on weekends, and dinner theatre on a whim. Perhaps those things will become more important to me in the future.
I have a habit of looking out toward the barn at night. The faint light from the solar lights in the barn paddock always seem reassuring for some reason.
Aria always has something to chew on in her mouth...hay, pine needle, twig.
But not now and not for a while.
Amber likes to reconnoiter the barn before entering.
Thank God I live in the country.
