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). 

musings on "Eat, Pray, Love"

After so many people raving about this book and specifically thinking it would appeal to me (as a wanderer, I have to assume) I finally read it. It was a quick, easy read and was certainly amusing at some points. I believe this book embodies why so many women in this country spend countless hours of their lives in yoga studios. We as the maternal keepers of our culture are trying to find any kind of spiritual lifeline to hold onto amidst a sea of doubts, emotional repression, and various naysayers. Here Elizabeth actually dared, as a result of her life being in seemingly utter shambles, to bring her yoga-life outside of the safe walls of a Manhattan studio. She does a lot of interesting things but it's just very hard for me to view them at all as 'adventurous' or daring seeing as she never has to worry about financial or emotional bankruptcy. It really wasn't until Bali that I could relate, or really empathize, with her at all. Go figure, it wasn't until she took an unplanned leap based off no solid or reliable evidence that the best opportunities presented themselves to her. That is something I had the pleasure of learning years back when I started my wandering. And she didn't find love, it found her when she engrossed herself in a selflessly loving act  (i.e. getting her friend a house).
So while I don't think I'll be reading any more by this author, I guess its nice to know that people seem to value the idea of self-exploration in the form of 'exotic' travel even if most of them can't or won't actually find the time for themselves. Ever wonder what would happen if you took the $14 you could spend on a book like this and bought a stranger lunch to hear their life story?

For anybody who wonders what the heck I'm doing out here in the woods

Life here isn't so different. You know, get up, start a fire, check the rain meter and go mushroom hunting. Well, maybe a bit different. Nothing comes for free out here but money isn't the price. You, or someone, have to work to stay warm, source and cook food, or even just have social interactions. Hot indoor showers are the reward for good fire tending skills. Warmth comes directly from combustion and electricity from the sun. 

The day to day tasks include mostly wood chopping and stacking as well as trying to stay on top of the cobwebs . The garden and orchard could always use a little attention but this time of year its pretty easy. 

Excitement comes sporadically, normally when nature gets the upper hand, weather or wildlife. Such as when we had to liberate a sizable redtail hawk from an enclosed part of the garden. Some times Marvin, the dog, looses against a skunk and we have to rub him down with all manner of products in an effort to de-musk him. The ravens also love to mess with you and the rodents don't quit. 

Oh the mice! For the first few weeks the mice were partying it up every night in the kitchen area. Seeing as I was sleeping feet away from said party; I took this issue personally. So with Art's approval, I made a few calls and picked up a couple barn cats from a lady in the dollar store parking lot. Now you have to understand these are not cute, sweet pet store cats. These are semi-feral, live outside, and kill for fun cats. Since our feline additions there has been significantly less rodent activity. Let's hope this isn't a coincidence. 

Art and Amy both keep quite busy with paid work as well as ranch jobs. Marvin demands walks and playtime, serving as mandatory mental breaks throughout the day. And those walks around almost 80 acres of land hold new surprises every time, new mushrooms, freshly downed redwood limbs, fluctuations in the river flow, or even an animal or two. 

Social interaction also varies, like the weather. Some weeks I might be here with just Marvin but some weekends we might hava a full house of visitors. Eventually the M.A.S.H. tent will be re-homes in a better place and all decked out. It will be the first 'guest house' of sorts here. With visitors from "the city" comes fresh conversation, new food and booze, and sometimes kids and dogs. The neighbors that I've met so far are all plentiful with personality and charm. There's Carol the sweet, kind, honest, pistol pack'n grandma down the road, the family of hippies I sometimes work for, and then there's the Big Stump boys. Suffice it to say, you know its a party over there when you smell coors light, gunpowder, and chainsaw fumes wafting down the valley. While they get a little rowdy, they mean well. 

But most days its mellow; eat, sleep, keep the woodroom and fridge stocked, and keep the dog happy. I'm about to finish my second book this month! I can't remember when I did that last, maybe back in college but voluntarily. 

As the days pass here my ranching kills are exercised as well as my ability to really be with myself and in the moment. 80 acres of lush redwood rainforest is a great setting to get to know yourself better. Nothing comes for free and personality sprouts from challenges and experience. Those are two things that pop up like mushrooms here. 

ranch life

So the next few months I've decided to slow it down a bit and opt for saving over fast-paced job juggling. A few months ago I discovered a distant family member who lives out in the redwoods a few hours North of San Francisco. Upon weighing my options for the winter months, it made more sense to opt out of busy, expensive, stressful urban life for a while to try and figure a few things out. Like many suburban-raised offspring, the hectic, stressful, and demanding lifestyle doesn't seem all too odd. Its the times when I am forced to stop and listen and look critically at myself and my place in this world when it all seems to fall apart. This means I need to work on that skill and what better setting to do that than a quiet ridge full of good food, physical labor, and stimulating company.

At this point I've been here for just going on two weeks and I'm starting to get into "valley time". There's not much danger except when the alcohol and firearms mix, and luckily that doesn't happen here. The biggest problem is the dog getting skunked every once in a while. The woods are full of mushrooms to be found, poked, prodded, and sometimes even grilled up for dinner! The birds are constant and plentiful from ducks, herons, jay, ravens, and tons of little song birds. Once the sun goes down its time to chop some wood, turn off electronics and open a good book. The fire heats pretty much everything and the only entertainment is what you can provide yourselves.

Homesickness as a plague

So this past week (week 8...a few weeks ago) has been a lovely refresher course in hand-holding and exercises in trying to make everybody happy all the time. Like always, it didn't happen. But I did successfully navigate one tragically homesick student through his troublesome first day (he was on the verge of tears the entire day) and he ended up having a great time, bonding the most with the other new students, as well as being one of the stars of the campfire skit. Its funny that the most important part of my job many weeks has nothing to do with what I went to college to study...making people feel comfortable. Fighting homesickness has nothing to do with being well versed in psychological theories or being able to diagnose and medicate a collection of symptoms. Many times it just takes a bit of waiting and a lot of listening. We all feel out of our element and therefore out of control of our own lives at some point in time....never more than the first time or two we are forced out of our homes and put in the care of a bunch of hippie-strangers who keep pointing at plants and rocks and saying strange words (that they might be just making up). Its so easy as a "naturalist" to focus so much on the science of a place that you forget the intrinsic value that, for many people, must come before any understanding of more concrete concepts. You can't learn math by having somebody point a gun at you and threaten to learn or shoot, to some of these students its almost as scary to be thrown into the "wild" of one of these programs. And its easy to discount student's fears and anxieties on account of their privileged home-lives but that's just as ignorant as  judging us because we are voluntarily homeless. Age doesn't matter, socio-economic level, intelligence or even how well traveled a person may be...a bad day/week/month is always a hurdle to true personal and educational development. It doesn't matter why or where its coming from, as an educator it is my job to figure out how to work through it or give up the goal altogether. And I'm not in the business of giving up...that's what my little homesick 6th grader showed me.