Anticipating the Return Move
Last summer, when my husband retired from teaching high school, we moved out to our property in what he calls “the toenails of the foothills of the Ozarks”.
We have been back in Texas during the winter, for four and one-half months, for his seasonal business, helping children from various organizations build their pinewood derby race cars. (www.pinewoodderbyworkshop.com).
Today, he finishes his final session and we drive back to Missouri. I can feel the peace invading my soul like a gentle mist rising from the ground from morning dew.
I can feel myself watching across the meadow as the sun line advances, and relearning where it is at various times of day.
I can see myself walking down to where the solar oven gets the most sunlight to adjust its angle as it cooks our food.
I feel myself walking back and forth from the cabin to the covered deck to cook. I eagerly anticipate filling the two fifty-five gallon drums with water. Our total available water at any one time has been fifteen gallons.
I see myself in the loft of our 12 x 20 cabin, sewing journal covers on my hand-crank sewing machine.
I see myself listening for the inspirational ideas to fill them and writing them on cards by hand. (www.InspiredPractices.com)
I love the steps it is taking to establish our homestead.
Even as I keep reading more and alternative building, biogas, rainwater catchment, gray water systems, we have decided that we will simply implement what we know at this point in time to finish out our cabin.
We will add more insulation. I will get someone to weld a terra-char stove together. It is more efficient than propane or even a rocket stove.
We will start a small strawbale garden. I will use thick mulches and food-grade absorbent pellets for enhancing our garden moisture.
In short, we will take the next steps.
After all, it is already begun.
Sharing the peace,