Goodbye, sweet cabin

We’re moving on Tuesday. Our boss/landlord was making noises about how we might want to start looking for a new place to live, and I wasn’t prepared to wait and see if they’d really use the “72 hour notice” clause in our employee housing agreement.

The new place is a cute little duplex in Penngrove — much closer to work. It was love at first sight (there’s a shared veggie garden in the yard!) so we put down a deposit the day we saw it.

Things I’ll miss about our house

• No neighbors in sight, or within shouting distance. We can make as much noise as we want. (And MAN some of our ticklefights get roudy.)
• Living in the middle of a bunch of trees is just COOL. All that moss, the smell of the bay trees in the rain, tromping through the woods looking for mushrooms or figs or berries, and seeing deer and turkeys wander by…it’s just so neat.
• Free chanterelle mushrooms. ‘Nough said.
• I finally (on attempt four or five, I don’t recall) planted some seeds that survived past germinating! Two weeks ago! ::sob:: (I don’t care if I have to break in, I am coming back for those peas when they’re ready.)
• Taking a bath in our unattached bathroom with the door open to the whole world. And drying off in the sun.
• Going for jogs around our orchard, where no one but the animals can tell how pitifully out of shape I am.
• Our insanely comfortable couch. It stays with the house, as well as all of our plates and nearly all of the furniture.
• Not having to really take care of our compost pile. Out of sight, out of mind.
• Knowing that our water comes from a well right by the house, much of our electricity comes from the solar panels and wind turbine in the orchard, and we only consume as much propane as we buy at the hardware store down the road.
• The cob oven. Not that I ever used it, but Chris has made some damn fine flatbread in that thing.
• Living on a property that was once owned by Jack London never quite lost its appeal.
• Bob Shaffer: awesomest neighbor ever.
• Paying next to nothing on rent.

Things I will certainly not miss about this place

• An hour of commuting everyday. The new place is about ten minutes from work.
• The goddamn skunk who decided that the area directly beneath our bedroom would be a great place to call home. (Though it seems to have left in the last couple weeks.)
• That week and a half we went without water — it’s hard not to hold a grudge about that one.
• Living without a working shower for the last couple months.
• The oven door that you can’t close without a ratchet strap.
• Climbing over the gate to punch in the code on the other side every time we leave.
• That 72 hour clause.
• Only heating the house when we’re going to be awake long enough to justify getting a fire started.
• No way to get an internet connection.
• Hearing and seeing gigantic limbs and whole trees fall down in heavy wind or rain. It’s almost kinda cool, but it’s scary — especially when I see one near the house or somewhere we often go and realize if I’d been standing there when it happened, it would’ve been seriously bad scene.
• The midnight/morning dash to the outdoor bathroom. Sooo coooooooold.
• Goddamn turkeys digging up every goddamn seed I’ve planted up till a couple weeks ago. They don’t even eat them, they just see the fresh dirt and go, “Oh, I have GOT to get in on that!” and scratch around like chickens. Assholes.
• Hearing animals get attacked in the middle of the night. It’s one thing to watch it on a nature show, and another thing entirely to wake up to a furry little guy get dragged off as he screams bloody murder. I’ve had too many fox nightmares.

I still want to spend as much of my life as I can living in the woods. Just not these woods.