Neighbors Redux

Greetings from Domelandia,
The first blog I ever did was entitled 'Neighbors'.  It included an explanation of our choice to live out here in the wild world and how the presence of new neighbors had affected us over the years.  I ended the blog with a statement about how we would try to be good neighbors to the new people who moved onto the acreage behind us. 

That was in 2010.  Since then, they've come and gone.  Life here isn't for the faint of heart.  Or it turns out, it isn't for people who aren't ready for the realities of digging out after a snowstorm, muddy roads, or having to open several gates to get in and out of their place.

After a couple of years, they left.  They didn't tell anyone where they were going.  When we finally figured out they were gone, we weren't sad about it.

A couple of years ago on New Years' Day, we walked back there on the way to see the magnificent cedar tree we named Tawanda.  You might recognize that name as the definition of Female Power used by Fannie Flagg in her book and movie 'Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe.' We love that tree.  We hadn't been back to the end of the canyon in a long time, and we wanted to see how she was doing.

The hike through their place was amazing.  We saw black plastic bags of garbage, most of which had been torn open and dragged into the forest by bears.  Piles of junk of all kinds everywhere.  Old fencing, lawn furniture, generators, water heaters, water tanks--we could not believe what had happened to this beautiful little piece of land.  Piles of logs, some cut to length, left by the gas drillers for their use, were rotting into the ground.  Blasphemy!!

We continued to the end of the canyon where Tawanda stood in her majesty.  There is a cave at the very end with a smoky ceiling.  There was a waterfall we'd never seen, the result of a spring waking up after a couple of wet years.  It was frozen in mid-flow.  We went home a different way so we wouldn't have to be reminded of what the neighbors had left behind. We want to win The Lottery so we can buy the place and clean it up. 

I once dreamed that a Native American man was speaking to me.  It was right after I came to live with the Viking.  He told me it was our job to take good care of the land while it was ours.  He then turned sideways and floated into a hole in the air.  I took that vision seriously.  We've been good stewards--the scars from overgrazing and tree cutting are mostly healed, and our forest is healthier too. Visitors often comment on the Sense of Place they feel when they drive up the road to our house.  It sits in the middle of a little valley.  The morning sun wakes us and warms us.  It is our home.

We treasure the presence of people who feel connected to the land as we do. Our land isn't a revenue-generating possession, or something to be taken for granted.  It is an energetic presence that requires reverence and respect.