Not everything is wonderful at this new place and with this new living arrangement: Winter is coming and with it, the need to prepare (More hay to put up. Fencing and gate work to do. New tires to buy, etc.). Living, eating, being alone so much are new
Every day, I clear trail on the eastern end of our property. It’s hard going. I envision a nice loop trail that heads out one draw, crosses a ridge, and returns via the other draw. It seems even the deer abandoned the trail ages ago. The way is thick with deadfall, scrub oaks, and brambles. The dogs have learned to plant themselves and nap since I manage about 100 yards per hour and hope to be done by November.
Being alone in the relative wilderness and knowing not everyone is kind and well-meaning, I find I can get spooked occasionally. I debate (with myself, of course) the merit or pointlessness of locking doors at night or while I’m gone. To break in, one must first travel great distance with the potential of no reward (especially with our house standing as the undoubtedly the most modest in the neighborhood). So, really, if a ne’er-do-well is going to make that much of an effort, is a locked door really going to be much of a deterrent? This morning, I jumped when I heard boots stomp, stomp, stomp across the porch. Someone coming to rape and pillage at 5 am! It was Jolene, impatient for hay, kicking the bunk feeder in perfect rhythm.
So, yeah, I’m learning to relax, to learn, and to keep my senses and mind keen.
But every day, I “struggle” with a certain hypnosis of the outdoors and the urge to be out in this stunning territory. It’s like staring into a fire or watching waves, but with action mixed in. It’s a lucky problem to have: balancing work with getting out. I’ll do my best.