At This Time Last Night-Finders, Creepers, and Dramatic Readings

How do you know its going to be a good night, or at least not a boring one? When four guys show up at your place to blow off their city steam out in the woods for one night with a pack of hot dogs, a bottle of bourbon, a bottle of absinthe, and a can-do attitude. This is the beauty of the ranch. It can be quiet and isolated one day and all-night laugh a minute debauchery the next! Here's a little story about how my day concluded this time last night.

The sun was a few hours away from setting and I was enjoying my job of roof sweeping when a strange truck rolled up the driveway. Four eager people got out of the car as Marvin came to greet the newcomers. He vouched for at least two of them. While I was more focused on my task at hand, I did notice the bounty coming out of their vehicle in the form of food and drink. Cleaning off all the roofs did not take as long as I thought it would and, besides rousing a poor little sleeping bat and falling into piles of rusty metal, it wasn't a bad way to finish up a day. With my arms throbbing a little bit from wielding a large push broom for a while, I started heading for the kitchen to heat up some water for a shower. It felt like I had redwood needles in almost every nook of my body and gutter juice from my face to my elbows. A hot shower was badly in order. Alas, my plan was delayed as the new guests stopped me to ask some questions. About thirty minutes later I finally got to the house to start preparing a hot shower.

With the daily grime scrubbed off me and a few more gulps of my water bottle, it was time to go make a cocktail. As I descended the stairs, I could hear the campfire crackling out front. It was Saturday night and I was not going to bed before midnight tonight.  In the kitchen I splashed, stirred, and sipped until I found something palatable. My apple cider cocktail was unique as well as tasty. Goblet in hand, I joined the party out front. The conversation was amusingly varied from antics of past ranch visits to sentiments on doomsday scenarios. Hotdogs on the grill, the moon peeking out from the tree tops, and the fire jacked up from 5 minutes of flame thrower action, this is how ranch nights should be.

Mushrooms preceded the make your own chili dog entree followed a few hours later with a bottle of absinthe for desert. Some of these faces matched names I had heard of in stories. Make sure you choose your tone of voice wisely when saying, "Oh, that was you! I've heard about this before." This was a hard crowd to rile-up, an oddly laid back pool of testosterone and liquid courage...at this point.

The burning licorice taste in our mouths signaled the Bigfoot autobiography to come out and the dramatic reading to begin. If you have never come across one of the three installments of this majestic creature's life story and musings, you really must. Art's dead pan cold reading of the latest and greatest from the legend had everybody laughing till they almost cried, or that could be the layer of redwood pollen on everything. Either way, good times were had by all. Marvin held out till about 9:30 or so before he asked to go to bed (yes, he does this). The story of past creepy house excursions led to me admitting that, despite having been here for almost 3 whole months, I had never set foot in the house at the bottom of the hill. A few more swigs later, and it seemed like a great idea!

Art opted out of the outing by retiring to bed. Flashlights and a machete in hand, we mosey'd down the driveway towards the funhouse. I tried to suggest we try to do it without flashlights but nobody else was too keen. Once we found the open door the oddities awaited us. This makeshift structure was born out of necessity from salvaged scraps to serve as a home to an extreme pacifist-hoarder. There are rooms behind rooms for everything from extra bathtubs, to rotary phones, to a rat latter. The cute little wood burning stove sports a modern splatter paint motif and made me wonder where it came from. As the guys poked around trying to scare each other with outlandish 'what if' statements, I found a rusty oil drum to jump up on into the rafters. Not much up there but it made it nicer to lay in wait for the next unsuspecting victim to walk in. The plan was to jump down and yell when one of the guys found their way into the room below, but I was too relaxed to do it fast enough. Failed prank or no, I got credit for staying up there alone for quite a few minutes. It was actually peaceful.

After the funhouse we took a little night walk down the tracks to see what else we could find. The river is roaring still and combined with the chorus of frogs calling make for a serene auditory background to our exploration. Trying to use the darkness and white noise of the river to our advantage, another quick scare tactic plan was hatched. I will admit I am not good at being sneaky, which is why I messed that one up as well. But as we all laughed at my failure and rallied to head back home, we realized we were one short. Standing at the tracks all three other guys wanted to just leave him. I kind of couldn't believe they would do that. I told them they could go and I would stay and find him, my training and darn empathy couldn't let me just ditch somebody in the woods. As I strolled back into the darkness, sure enough but the fourth musketeer jumped out from the bushes right at me. He was lucky I didn't have the machete anymore, but he didn't know that. And at least I didn't jump. By this point some people wanted to go to bed and all of us were ready to get back to a warm fire.

Back at the house the red-haired visitor proceeded to get out left over hot dogs and two cinnamon buns, attempting to warms them over the fire. Charred wiener, dirty buns, and beer make a great late night snack, apparently. They were polite and offered to share. I politely declined. At some point in all this we discovered that the bottle of absinthe we were drinking was over 100 proof so naturally we asked what would happen if you spit it at the fire. Yup, big, awesome fire ball. By 2am the fire was kind of dying out and I would spit or splash a pony shot to the fading fire. Luckily it was a random gift and nobody particularly enjoyed the taste of this spirit. We really didn't need green fairy to have a good time, but it probably didn't hurt. Bigfoot made an encore as well. 

Eventually the clock reached 3am and even I was ready to call it a night. I helped the guys in the tent get the proper woody material to heat their abode and pointed out the free futon in the living room to the lone straggler of bed-calling. Everybody had had enough grog and excitement to pass out practically anywhere but people are a lot more likely to work the next day if they don't have a bad back.

Its funny how the different characters that saunter through this place resonate their energy off the hills and hear something new every time. You could see how four unaccounted for dudes could pose a potential risk for harm and destruction. But not this anything but motley crew. Like my Mom sometimes says, "No expectations, no disappointments". This weekend was a great reminder of how true that really is.

Take Me to the River

I can hear the rush and roar of the Noyo river from the railroad tracks a few hundred feet away. The rain changes a lot around here. It's been just me and Marvin the past few days and other than a few newly discovered leaks, life has been tranquil. At night when the rain is strong and steady it lends itself to a sense of calm. You can't quite see it yet, but the mycelium in the leaves is nourished and ready to fruit. Next week the forest floor will be speckled with an abundance of color. The fire-bellied newts are back on the prowl and hot to copulate. I guess that fresh rain smell just turns them on. A few inches from the sky and life is back in motion.
While I feel bad for all the spiders I killed or evicted, it's rewarding to see the greenhouse starting to come together. It must have been stunning in its heyday, tropical plants strewn around the middle room covered with a few kinds of ferns embedded in a room-wide ground cover and a large koi pond off to the left. But years of neglect have left a solid structure with a shambles inside. With a few more steps it will be back on the road to useful.
It seemed like just a few days ago the forthcoming seasons looked ominous and fruitless. Presently, however, seasons are coming together and old friends out of the woodwork. In just a few short weeks everything will change again. Life out of a backpack by the seat of my pants. Beautiful places, new characters, unforeseen challenges. I can only imagine right now.
I know nothing's really changed, its been here all the time, it just needed a fresh coat of rain to illuminate.

Calm in the Chaos-As long as I can have my coffee

There is this magic metal box off the side of my room that emits heat and I cannot for the life of me figure out where the fuel goes or the flames come out. As if this weren't enough, a lovely gentleman delivered a tray of scrumptious breakfast complete with a giant carafe of coffee right to my door! It might only be a few miles away from home but it's like another world. The soft floral wallpaper envelopes the cosy room and the quilted surfaces remind you that you haven't called your grandmother in way too long. The room, breakfast, the birds singing in the garden outside my window and the feint sound of the ocean lapping at the rocky shore are all just fringe benefits. The true satisfaction comes from knowing that I have 12 hours left of my weekend getaway. Who knows what those hours could throw at me.

After yesterday morning, I've filled my dirty, flaming, flesh wound quota for the month. Not all at once, but over the course of about four hours the trash van, badly in need of a purge, had a little fire inside it, a canine quarrel shook up the yard leaving a deep puncture wound to a hand and some pieces of fur displaced, and once the dumpster on wheels safely arrived, I actually kind of enjoyed the two relaxing hours at the dump sorting weeks of collective debris. While getting splashed in the face with month-old buttermilk juice isn't my idea of fun, at least it's not stressful. The sun was out, the refuse management specialists were friendly and helpful, and the knowledge of a hot shower and open road just on the horizon added up to a pleasant late morning.
Well, I can see the frost making its way into the atmosphere so I should probably follow suit. Whales, wine, horses, and miles of rocky shoreline all possibly await me. The grounds in the bottom of my last cup of coffee are telling me I'm ready for a little adventure.

You bring the beef, I'll get the bullets.

The moon is rising over the tops of the redwoods as the fog rolls in for the night. A few remnant embers smolder in the fire pit sending the smoke dancing up to the heavens serving as the last reminder. For all the weekends of friends and neighbors that pass through this wintery adventure, the one that just transpired was the most educational, uplifting and exhausting. My body aches in places it never has before, as a result of my enthusiasm wielding a chainsaw for the first time, and just when I was starting to think that my ranch hand training was just about over too! You have to realize it's not just a chainsaw; its what it represents, on many levels. Quality firewood means warmth, comfort, and convenience. Motorized cutting tools are paramount to controlling your wild domain out here where the wood is hard and big. And even more visceral than that, being able to hold one's own in the social scene requires at least a brief tutorial on safely playing lumberjack. I am proud to don my Carhartt work jeans, dirty flannel shirt and keep pace with the best of 'em.

Life out here is kind of like a gay republican or fried ice cream. It combines things that seemingly don't really go together and somehow it just works. Its drinking tequila out of a budweiser can. It's the grandma down the street who makes you hot cocoa then invites you out to her shooting range. Imagine a burly, gun toting, forester sitting fireside on Friday night sharing an impassioned feminist rant about laws governing reproductive rights. Crazy, right? Coffee by day, cannabis by night and everything in between. People here might be polar opposites in many ways and typically at least 5 miles apart yet the sense of community here is greater than anywhere else I've ever lived. When life is an active pursuit of basic needs, it doesn't pay to isolate one's self. The pack is your greatest asset. In light of recent history, I'm not nearly as scared of becoming a crazy hermit. 

While I am definitely not a country girl, I'm becoming less of a city girl everyday. The daily intake of learning opportunities seem endless and I have no plans for quitting. Off the grid energy, gardening, mushrooms, hacking up dead trees, and feline husbandry are just a few of my recent classes. There is still the whole arena of woodworking that I haven't even glanced at yet. Only time can tell, as things are mighty unpredictable this side of civilized. All I do know is that I'm surrounded by knowledge and support from these woods as well as its dysfunctional tribe. With the right power tools, I think I might just make it! 

It's 3:00 AM and this one's personal

It's funny how things never turn out like you thought they would. I came out to the forest for a few months to introspect on a multitude of things as well as get in touch with my inner pioneer women. Over the past few weeks my biggest challenges have stemmed from my new online writing course and dealing with my stir-crazy lonely thoughts. Upon pondering my past, I realized I've never spent this long without any direct contact from established friends and/or immediate family. Maybe I'm just not ready for this much alone time. The ever growing list of projects around the ranch as well as the weekly influx of urban explorers provide some distraction from my personal to-do list. One of the major downfalls of this current winter plan is that I set out to unearth, address, and synthesize solutions to some deep seeded issues yet I'm completely cut off from any kind of known support system. Don't get me wrong, people out here are great. But you just can't open up and talk about certain things with people you've just met. I just keep telling myself that this is the crux and any day now (maybe it has but I can't be sure) things will start making more sense. Only time can tell.

On the plus side, I'm really getting the swing of things here. I have designed a firewood drying system (because none of our wood is as seasoned as it should be as a result of the newness of the ranch). The hydraulic wood splitter, four-wheeler, and propane space heaters are the three main daily luxuries out here and I never take them for granted. The mushrooms are in full bloom (I guess you'd say "fruit"since they're fruiting bodies). Wording aside, they're just darn tasty. Black trumpets are the most plentiful and we have been putting them in all sorts of things from toast toppings to pasta sauce they jazz up any meal. My favorite new wild mushroom dish has to be the matsutake soup one of Art's friend's highly recommended. It is incredibly basic but perfectly enhances the smell and texture of the aromatic myco-treat! 

The last big news coming out of three banana world is POWER! Not like the taking over the world by hostile acquisitions kind, just the kind that keep the lights and internet running all night. After a hefty amount of time, money, and manpower was initially invested, the ranch has the beginnings of a completely revamped sustainable energy system. We might be 40 minutes drive from "the grid"but that doesn't mean we have to live like the Amish. This is the second night, not in a row or else I'd be a zombie, that I've downed some yerba mate at 7pm and stayed up late working on reading, writing, and job hunting. This is a very important luxury in a place where you only get a few hours a sun and relative warmth a day. Its best to try and spend most of the sunny hours doing outdoor projects and activities like dog walking, mushroom picking, garden work, and trail maintenance. A few more productive late nighters and I might have myself a future job, an actual career path, expanded writing/pitching skills, and a few more books read. 

*Things worth mentioning that don't require full paragraphs: 

I'm dying to have an excuse to put on a pretty dress and feel fancy. 

I think I might have found a great way to keep my skin clear and healthy, only it's illegal in some states. 

Everybody loves a one-zy...especially when it's adult sized and leopard print with cats on the feet. Hot. 

The little cat might have a cold or something. She sounds like she's been having some kind of respiratory distress. I can't pet her lately either so I'm not even sure how I'd get it checked out. 

By about 2:15am the hunger really starts to set in. 

Ken, the cheeky country grandpa down the road, got his license to carry a concealed weapon and now has his 9mm Ruger with a lazar sight at all times. This is a good thing because I'll get to shoot even more now! 

Subsequently I've learned that you can split wood with a shot gun and some slugs. It's not the safest or most cost efficient means to the end, but highly entertaining to a testosterone rich local gathering. 

I might have been born a suburban girl but I can pull off a little bit country a little bit rock n roll (with a dash of hip hop).