…eludes me. The search for a home to build or move to the property continues to be a struggle. Of course, it is a good struggle in many ways. It has become all-consuming. Thoughts of money and time and materials. Thoughts of mud and rooms and needs.
The platform tents at High Trails might do the trick. Concrete blocks supporting a floor and canvas walls and roof. That will be one thing we do, for sure.
I dream often of my Grandmother’s home in the Wilshire section of Los Angeles. A simple white clapboard home. She and Granddad moved into that home in 1920. She told me she stood at the kitchen window and knew she was in heaven and she’d never leave. This was after living in a tent in the winter in British Columbia, an undoubtedly hot house in Ponca City, Oklahoma and others.
That’s all I want. Simplicity. Peace. The quietude of the forest. Eagles soaring overhead. Deer and frogs and hawks and dragonflies.
Back to the drawing board and the books and the websites and the dream. It will happen.