Welcome Home to Yourself

or I'm a Little Bit Country, and I'm a Little Bit Rock & Roll

It’s not even 10am yet, and I’ve already used a drill, a screwdriver, a hammer, a socket wrench, a circular saw, a sump pump, and some spray paint. That’s quite a pivot for a city girl night owl, like me.

I just spent a long hard Maine winter living off-grid in a cabin in the woods. In Maine, we call a cabin on a lake, a camp, so you’ll excuse me if I fall into my local vernacular.

It’s fortunate that I had the gumption to start my projects early today, because a good soaking spring rain is falling now. I’m not someone who prays anymore, but I feel the urge to thank the Heavens this isn’t snow. The ice just went out two weeks ago and yesterday was May Day. Six months of winter is a lot for anyone, but for a 54-year-old woman who’s accustomed to convenience, it’s been a rugged adjustment.

Make no mistake, I chose this and I love living here. There’s never a moment of regret for moving to Camp fulltime. I’ve created a home that’s just for me out in the woods. I live in a writer’s paradise which inspires me and feeds my immortal soul. I’m surrounded by love, my love for nature, my love for family members long gone, my love for myself. I am complete after a very long journey to find and appreciate the real me.

I heat my home mostly with wood. My hands have developed a resistance to splinters. I’ve learned about updrafts and downdrafts in my wood stove, sometimes the hard way. Many of my suppers are warmed up on top of this cast iron beauty. Which reminds me I need to apply a little Windex to the front glass, so I can more fully appreciate the Boy Scout TV program she broadcasts each day.

I pump water out of the lake for washing and cleaning. I figured out I could cut a hole in the ice with a chainsaw and lower my sump pump into that hole in the dead of winter. Who knew? I learned that everything liquid will freeze if I leave Camp for a few days in the winter. I only had to replace the on-demand hot water heater once to remember my science teacher’s lesson about how water expands when it freezes.

One of my chores this morning was replacing the padded toilet seat in the outhouse. I’m reminded the outhouse pit will need to be shoveled out soon. That’s a task probably best done before the heat of summer cooks everything into a more intense aroma.

I picked up a side-by-side four-wheeler for outside jobs around Camp. Her name is Harriet Sweet Chariot. She has a winch, which I’m learning how to use and trying not to break. She’s patient with me, but there’s only so much she can take. FYI, before I met Harriet, I successfully used my trusty Lesbaru as a tractor on my property. Is there anything a Lesbaru can’t do?

My writing chair overlooks the lake and I can see a pair of mergansers fishing in front of the Camp. These birds move at the pace of peace. They teach me grace and poise. I will be intentional about how I spend my day, balancing work with play. Breathing deeply. Focusing on the big picture. Receiving love from Mother Nature and sending chicken soup vibes to my chosen family and loved ones who are hurting and healing.

I am home, for the first time in my life. Welcome home, Chris. Welcome home to yourself.