The Fine Art of Cloud Talking
In the late 90s, my husband and I, and our toddler son, spent a weekend at a friend's remote cabin. Set in a meadow of tall grasses and wildflowers, the structure that would now be termed a "Tiny Home" was simply one space with a combined kitchen and sitting area, a very small bathroom, and a loft for sleeping. I am admittedly precious when it comes to having a legit bathroom and bed situation. I was not looking forward to this elevated camping weekend, but went along to appease my people. We hiked around, immersed ourselves in nature, and taught our son the fine art of cloud talking - an endeavor where one explores dreamy what ifs, unencumbered by reality. Surprisingly, I had a better than expected time, a GREAT time I would even say, a time so noteworthy in fact that it lodged a joyful nugget deep in the recesses of my brain. A joyful nugget that would grow into an obsession not fully explored for another 20 plus years.
Fast forward to the ending months of 2019.
With a newly empty nest, I was excited to explore the world in front of me. Freedom to travel, freedom to sleep, freedom to eat popcorn for dinner...FREEDOM!!! I got a part time job at a local shop run by two of my friends, planned trips to see my daughter away at school, decided to stop dyeing my hair, and recommitted to writing a very mediocre novel. All was trotting along nicely, and 2020 dawned full of promise.
Well, you know what happened next.
In the early days of the pandemic, I remember thinking there would be a brief intermission, and that my regularly scheduled program of Freedom would continue shortly. Nope. My exciting new life fell like dominos - postponed concert and trip, cancelled party for my Granny's 100th birthday, an end to the job I loved; and perhaps the most gut-wrenching of all, the cancellation of in-person learning at my daughter's school, with the added bonus that the dorms would close through the end of the academic year. I felt disappointed for her, for me, for my dreams...
Granny at street-side 100th birthday party
I did have perspective, however. I was glued to the 24/7 news cycle, watching the seemingly abstract and remote rain shower morph into a full blown, category 1000 hurricane. I watched in horror as single digit case numbers, doubled, tripled, million'd. Images of patients stacked up in hospital hallways and body bags stacked in refrigerated trucks will haunt me until the end. Witnessing the massive loss of life, home and happiness on a global scale created the most acutely focused lens I had ever looked through in my then 50 years, putting into sharp relief the inequity humanity's lust for power and dominance had wrought upon this planet. Wherever I fall on the magic and arbitrary scale of privilege, I acknowledge that I have not endured .oooooo1% of what most have had to contend with over the last 3+ years.
Two months into lockdown, my daughter, who's relationship with covid protocol was a bit looser than mine, decided she would return to her college town to live off campus with roommates, and conduct her online learning in an environment more akin to college life than home life with the parents. With dry eyes and a shipping container's worth of masks, I sent her on her way and tried to figure out what to do with the rest of my seemingly 72-hour days.
So I did all the things Instagram was telling me to do.
Hike
Bake Bread
First attempt...
There-ish...
Calm down!
Plant a Garden
Repeat
Repeat
Repeat
Repeat
Oh, and sew masks - hahahahahaha - the fabric remnants I had lying around were so dense, the wearer of said masks couldn't breath through them. Every time I come across one now in a drawer, back of the car, old purse, I laugh and then want to light them on fire.
Also, the decision to quit dyeing my hair coincided nicely with the enforced lack of human interaction. I have considered that maybe this late 2019 decision is the genesis of Covid and not a wet market in China. Like tempting the rain Gods when you wash your car. But, for real, it made the transition easier than anticipated. I even joined a "going grey" Facebook group and followed eleventy million "silver sisters" on IG.
All this homespun goodness awakened the feels I had on that mountain top in 1998, taking in the glorious rural wonder of California. In early summer 2020, I began cloud searching (a derivative of the aforementioned cloud talking) rural properties within a 200 mile radius. Determining my search parameters was the fun part. My mythical property would have to be at least three acres I figured, easily drivable from my primary residence (no mass transit, read proximity to plague humans, necessary), and it must be dotted with big, beautiful trees. As much as I admire the austere beauty of the desert, I wanted something that would be green most of the year. I soon learned there were many options out there for pandemic pioneers like me. Did I want whatever the rural living version of "glamping" is? No problem, but you better have a few million dollars lying around to make it happen. I didn't. So, even though I wasn't shopping in earnest, I did try to be somewhat realistic with budget.
During one day's surf for properties, a listing way outside my search guidelines in terms of both size and distance populated alongside the more viable options. It had a video so I decided to dig deeper. It was located an hour and a half outside our desired driving range, and 30 minutes north of where our daughter goes to school. At a whopping 40 acres, it just seemed massive and ridiculous, and the price was just on the other side of the very tippy top of our budget. The video was intoxicating however. A hat wearing cowboy riding astride a majestic steed through dense oak trees, long horn cattle grazing in a vast meadow, 275 degree hilltop vistas toward the ocean...I mean, come on. I saved it, and continued with my search, which yielded more modest, realistic prospects.
Throughout the summer the thought of owning a rural property was still a hobby of idea making. As the pandemic intensified, however, and the notion that this may be a permanent way of living crept in, my husband and I started to consider the actual viability of this endeavor.
We started small, driving by a place located in a town on the way to see our daughter. We peeled off the highway and drove 20 minutes inland, through an area home to a couple of wineries, family farms, and mostly commercial agriculture. The deeper we went, the bigger our smiles grew. The GPS took us to the end of a short dirt road, beautifully lush with mature oaks, natural scrub, and cacti. A little valley to one side was ripe with velvety green grasses. I was thrilled! I couldn't believe we hit it out of the park on our first try. I hopped the fence and wandered up the dirt road to what appeared to be the flat and mostly cleared potential homesite. The views were breathtaking. I envisioned our small and cozy retreat, with a roaring fire pit just over there...maybe an herb garden that could grow unfettered and wild over there...
I jumped back in the car DETERMINED to make this happen.
Inspiration