It's been several weeks since I've written much of anything. I abandoned my previous blog that I posted during our nomadic travels while finding our way through the pandemic. At the time, I gave up the blog in hopes of spending my time and energy focusing on a book. The book was a difficult birth, failing at conception. I spent the next few weeks delving into reading and contemplating life without typing about it. It was a good break but I find my fingers and spirit are left wanting. Wanting to share my life with myself and you.
We have been settled here for almost two months in the woods.
We are leaving in three weeks, on our way south as far as we can go before reaching the Mexican Border. I am confident we will find a home and work to engage in.
The last several weeks have been an adventure. We have evacuated from three major fires, one the largest in California's history. Believe me, this is nothing to be proud of, not a medal I want to wear or brag about. It is just an uncomfortable fact. Here, in California, part of the year, a big chunk of it is spent surviving and trying to thrive with fires raging within miles of your home and work. Many days, you find yourself waking up to an eerie sun, cloaked in smoke illuminating your world in a apocalyptic bath of distorted orange light.
Hence, my wish for snow.
The snow isn't here yet to usher in a proper season of premature winter. Even so, I believe the fire season has finally been extinguished until next year. One, can only hope.
There are so many good things to share with you.
The deer here are so tame, they barely move when you approach them. They look at you like you are the stranger out of place. We have two black bear that rumble through the night, plowing through fences like proper beasts, and a petite female grouse who has befriended us, flying down from her rooftop perch in the trees every morning, flapping her wings at us in greeting. There is a grey fox, a pair, hanging about waiting for someone to forget to close the chicken coop before sunset. Their chops anticipating plump hens for dinner. So far, we haven't fed them. I read that fox love to stockpile fresh chicken carcasses. They will kill a whole flock in one hedonistic night.
At night, the stars, a planet, and moon hang from the sky like a colorful drawing from a children's book. In the morning, I watch the fog blanket the valley and slowly move back across the mountains. I am at peace here, the quiet is my friend.
A small part of me would love to stay and tend the gardens, keep up my friendship with the grouse. The rest of me knows, time is near, and we will be leaving again to find a new home near the beach where my soul is waiting for the next journey to begin.
Today, I watch the clouds form in the sky, feeling the warmth of the heater, waiting for the snowflakes to fall.