Waking up to frost and remembering your dream

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Well, the seasons have changed and I’m finally back to living somewhere that actually experiences winters. It seems as if in a matter of a day we went from above average warm temps where I was still having to open the doors and windows to freezing cold and waking up to frost.

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I’m not complaining though. This kind of weather makes my soul sing with joy. I’m a PNW kind of girl through and through and although I’m not ready to head back now if ever, I was definitely ready to get back to a climate that felt like home.

My biggest challenge so far has been trying to figure out how to keep the yurt warm. It is, after all, a big tent. And since I’m on a limited budget, I’m having to get clever. I did purchase insulated curtains that are supposed to help but I also have three space heaters that aren’t the most efficient but are definitely better than nothing. But I like this exploration process. It makes me feel like I’m living.

The farm has totally different energy now too. It’s amazing how something like that can change with the turning of the weather and seasons.

I feel different as well. I feel more internal. Hibernating if you will. Which is exactly what part of my intention is. To flow more with the seasons and this time of year represents slowing down and turning inward more.

My days have been spent baking and cooking and yes, more relaxing too but I’m still struggling with the rewiring of my brain a bit. The go and do more equates to self-worth mentality is a long-time story of mine that I am working on daily. Living out here is helping.

With the change of the season, I am reminded of why I am here. To remember who I am and my dreams and the frost reminded me of living on the farm in Oregon and that part of me that felt so alive planning for the spring planting season and that is what I am doing now.

It feels good to remember your dreams.


I Am A Gardener Too

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Lately, Baker and I have been going on afternoon walks down the unevenly paved road leading into Bodega town. It’s a good couple of miles and I leave my phone at home so I can be fully present to my reality and to Baker’s infectious joy as he frolics down the road with his buoyant gallop. He never did learn how to run properly.

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Farm Life and The Apple Tree Trimmer

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We have an apple tree on the farm. It’s big and fertile right now busting at the seams with well over one hundred Organic Granny Smith Apples just waiting to be picked. Every few days I open the gate leading to the tree and grab enough to fill my medium-sized mixing bowl. This act alone makes me feel a connection to myself and the land that got lost several years ago after my divorce. All of a sudden, I’m transported back to my days living on the vineyard in Oregon when I nominated myself to be in charge of trimming the three apple trees on the property. I loved the methodical way in which I’d cut back each branch preparing the crop for the cooler, dark winters month.

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