Forest Fête.

We have some friends who are homesteading in a forest. The homestead is down a gravel road, set amidst a family that owns acres and acres that they have split off into sections for each new family member that wants to stay close by, with a state forest on the other side. Our friends and their three dogs have been living in a tent for over a year, with no electricity or running water, and they invited folks out to enjoy the beauty of nature in their peaceful space.

We had a fun conversation about how they often get expressions of concern from those of us who love them. “How do you stay warm? How can you live like that? Are you sure you’re okay?” They politely thank people for their concern, then softly laugh to themselves as they enjoy the peace and beauty that surrounds them every time they are in their forest.

Then they mentally ask those of us who expressed the concerns, surrounded by our noisy, internet-connected, stuff-filled lives, “How can you live like that?”

Delightful question to ponder.

In my mind this family of 6 (2 humans, 3 dogs, and now a hedgehog) was living in a yurt. It was sort of an elegant version of camping.

The reality was both rougher and more peaceful and beautiful than I was imagining. I’m so glad we had the chance to spend time there.

When was the last time you were in a space where there was no car noise? For us, it hadn’t been since we were hiking around out west this summer. I cherish these moments of natural noise.

There was one disconcerting moment when a white fellow in an orange vest wandered up to make sure we knew it was “muzzleloader season” that weekend. Please be aware hunters are out and about. He had heard our voices, and made the effort to hike down to let us know. Though I was stunned to learn that “muzzleloader season” was a thing, I thought that was very kind of him.

We loved spending time with the group of people and critters that were there yesterday. We loved our long drive together there and back. (The children all had projects they were working on, so they stayed home.) Buds and I also had the opportunity to talk about if we could homestead like this (We couldn’t.), but it did help us clarify what was critical for us in a home-space.

It was a peaceful, laughter-filled, connecting sort of day. I’m so glad we had the chance to indulge in it.