The Road, or Grown Old

I didn't have a project in mind when I left for the farm this morning. I just wanted to make a point of getting out there since I hadn't for a couple of days.
Once I was there, I did a couple odds & ends: shoveled some mud out of the corner of the house; started taking down the unnecessary fence next to it. Once I got to the point where I needed tools that I hadn't brought, I decided to go for a walk and scout out locations for next month's Camp. I already have an idea where the camp will be, but I walked further out for a spot for a latrine.
That field is overgrown with brambles in some places, so even though I found a good site, I worried that it might be treacherous to find in the dark of night. Just as I wondered if an alternate route might be found, I looked up and found it.
Five steps from where I was standing, there was a clear path. Standing on the path and looking to the left, and then to the right... This is a mostly-clear, quite broad path. I followed it back to the campsite, and imagined it lit with tiki lamps. Perfect.
I followed it back to the latrine site and beyond. It goes on quite a ways (the My Tracks app on my phone tells me it is 0.34 miles), almost to the far end of the property. I even wonder if it would be possible to build a bridge across the creek at that end, and use that as the entrance to Rosewater. There is research to be done, there.

That is not the only research I am interested in doing. The path is not only long, but consistently broad, and it looks like, but for the creek, it would connect to the road. I think it may have actually been the main road, back in the day.
The other end would have crossed the creek close to the house, and that section of the creek has washed the ground away dramatically over the years. I wonder if that issue might have been the reason for relocating the road.
I now have a greater curiosity about the history of the property, about its boundaries and its use. I wonder if there might not be a use for the local public library, after all.

When I came back from my nth tour of the road (I didn't accomplish much there today, but I certainly got some exercise), Andrew, Shiloh, and Ricky (the neighbor kids) dropped by. They told amusing stories of ways they've broken each other's bones while playing around. There is no sign of bitterness among them, just a reckless enthusiasm. They know that sometimes, you just get hurt.
They have grown up playing around the same stretch of creek that I did growing up. I told them about the dams we used to build, and about the kids that used to live in their house. I've only talked with these kids a half-dozen times, but they've grown on me fast and I'll be sad to see them go when they move next month.

...

Shortly before I left for Texas after the New Year, I noticed some broccoli was growing in the garden Leslie and I had planted back in August. When I returned, it was looking wimpy from the cold, so I took a bunch of leaves from the compost and set them around to protect it.
Today was a lovely day, so I cleared the leaves away to give the broccoli some light.
Before this broccoli, all that had grown (from hundreds of planted seeds) was a single collard (which was wicked delicious, I must say). But today I noticed another collard, and two sprouts of kale!
I was wishing earlier that it would snow (oh, snow settling at Rosewater is possibly my favorite sound), but if these plants are the benefit of a mild winter, well... I'm not as disappointed as I could be.

Work / Key / Fire / Neighbors

When I would tell people I met on the road about Rosewater, I often heard, "Farming is a lot of hard work, you know." I was always surprised. Did I seem the kind of guy that was naïvely jumping into a project thinking it was going to be a cakewalk?
Fact is, though, that I don't expect it to be very hard. To me, going to a 9-5 job that I hate, day in and day out, for months and years... That's hard work. Hell, with a job like that, getting out of bed to face the day seems like hard work.
Working twelve-hour days on a factory was tiring work, but I never considered it to be "hard work."

Sure, competing with nature for control of the land is probably hard work. But I do not plan to compete; I intend to work with nature. If I planned on cutting down every sapling that's reclaimed even one field, I would lose my mind. We are talking about over twenty years' worth of wild growth in some fields!

Anyway.

Scott and I spent an afternoon at Rosewater, recently. We were not very productive, but we mostly went since he hadn't seen it in three months. We scoured for a place to set the bridge, and Scott managed to start a good fire after only five seconds' trying. After we tired of the fire, we poked around the old house-site, and discovered some of the bricks in the fireplace were loose. I eventually grabbed the pick-axe to pry out more bricks. In between a couple of them, in the mortar, we found a key! It's labeled by the F. W. Stewart Mfg. Co., Chicago U.S.A. and has the number 173 on one side. Who knows about old keys? Can somebody tell me what it might be to? (After a little googling, we suspect it is a very old car key.)

Today I went out with the solar-powered emergency radio my mom gave me for Christmas. It has an audio-in port, so I was able to enjoy some music while I cleared out the there-for-some-reason hole in the floor.
The hole is part of the cement floor, but is about two or three feet deep, almost five feet wide, and nearly three feet across. Mom imagines it is where milk was once stored. Scott and I wondered if it might make a good fire-pit to heat the house.
It will not. The place filled with smoke quickly, even with a very small fire. To ventilate such a large pit would be more trouble than would be worth it.

The kids from uphill came down to get their dogs (the dogs always run down when they hear me working), and we chatted a bit. They told me they're moving soon, and will be getting rid of their chickens. I told them I might be interested in buying them, and they said they'll probably give them away. I told them I'd talk to them about it once we build a chicken coop.

After they left, I thought about how I would feel if my kids came home talking about the man building a home in the abandoned woods. Once I wrapped up for the day, I walked uphill to introduce myself. Judy, the neighbor, recognized me immediately, even though the last time I saw her was two days after the house burned down in 2003, and  1999 before that.
We talked about the problems in the area. She is sure the house burned down because someone was making meth in it. She also said somebody has been driving around stealing dogs for a while (for rituals, according to the police). So that's good to be aware of.
She has had several surgeries over the past year, so there's a lot that needs doing before they move back to Utah. I told her to let me know if I can help with anything, and she told me to let her know if someone wants to buy 100 acres. (I wish.)

Winter / Projects

Good morning, campers!

After a month in Texas, I have finally returned to Dickson. The first couple weeks out there I was frustrated by the warm temperatures, however I appear to have adjusted to them since now winter seems daunting.

I am still excited, though. While I was in Texas, I read this article and am really interested in alternatives to refrigeration. The thought of using the fruits and potatoes and onions together seems to me like an extension of the permaculture stuff Lance was telling me about. And I believe the creek will be cold enough year-round that it can refrigerate whatever requires it.

John was shopping for chickens from the road. I think a coop should be a pretty good early project. Having chickens on hand when spring hits could keep the tick population much lower than it was last year.

I like thinking of these two small projects. I have a tendency to pipe-dream, so I'm trying not to think about the solar oven and bridge and planting (though I'll want to be thinking about that soon).

Today, I want to achieve at least two goals: 1. take measurements for the roof, since dad offered to buy new tin for it; 2. break up the pile of cement that got wet & settled in a corner of the shed.

I'm not sure how long it has been since it rained here, but hopefully it's been long enough that the floor won't be damp, and I can sweep the place out a bit better.

Oh, and here are some other articles I've recently read:
one on facing major changes
one on facing difficult times
and the Way of Practical Attainment, which has been my compass for the past few weeks
The first two links are very accessible, good, quick reads. The third is a little more challenging, but very insightful.

Good morning!

Good Morning, Camp Rosewater!

I'm actually nowhere near Rosewater at the moment. I'm in Harker Heights, TX. But I have a computer at my fingertips for the first time in a long while, so I'm making the most of it.

So, here's what's up.

I like to travel. I love the scenery that goes by when I'm a passenger in a car or train or bus. I love the conversations and music when I'm driving (music sounds different on the road, trust me). And I love the weirdness of flying: boarding a plane at 6AM in cold, rainy Seattle, only to be in short sleeves & rolling in the desert sand of Tucson by noon.

And I have a lot of other friends who like to travel, too.
And I like to wonder: why do we do this? Are we looking for something? Running from something? Are we just bored, or are we simply following our hearts?
And honestly, each of these things are true from time to time.
But can we really get what we want out of life without abandoning this lifestyle?
Who knows?

At the moment, Rosewater is an experiment in living. It's a place where we can come and go as we please, and where we can have some sense of family or community while we are there. An anchor.

It is also a place where we can bring our crazy ideas to the table, and work them out.
I'm making a house out of a shed.
John and I have talked about bringing a sailboat to the farm to restore, despite the fact that Rosewater is nowhere near the sea.
Scott wants to "plant some food, watch the food grow, and eat the food." It is shocking to realize that living requires no more of us than that.
Leslie likes the idea of a healing retreat center.
There has been talk of building a music studio.
Scott and Valerie have expressed an interest in raising goats.
Lance has valuable input on permaculture, which could support the idea of organic farming.

Basically, anything is possible, and Rosewater is a place where we can discover which possibilities are worthwhile.

There is no mission, there is no vision. That is the vision. (This is my take on it, anyway. Hopefully I can persuade other Campers to post here, to muse over their ideas of what life is for & about, and to post about projects as they develop...)