Five miles from the nearest pavement, down a dirt road, make a right onto a grass covered forest access road. Walk a half mile down the access road and, maybe 100 yards off the road, in a hidden valley, there’s an old, going back to the earth, log cabin. I couldn’t help but wonder whose dreams, fears, aspirations were once housed there.
In the process of building our new home and putting in a driveway we had to cut down quite a few trees on the property. The builder limbed the trunks and then stacked most of them in piles. I stared at these piles for a long time trying to figure out how I could use them.
For most of my life a dog has been part of the family. What type of dogs you ask? I don’t know. They were mostly black dogs of dubious bloodline and parentage who came either from a shelter or were castaways from somebody else. When I retired, I decided I was getting the perfect, pure-blood hunting dog.
I’ve always wanted to live where the wild things are. No, not the Bronx, different wild things live there. I mean closer to nature, at the door to the wilderness. Growing up I was more interested in Daniel Boone than Buck Rogers.
I hadn’t moved in thirty-five years. That’s thirty-five years in the same house. So how many ‘essential’ items does a family collect in thirty-five years?
You might have heard the news, Kat and I made some major changes to our lives this year. I had worked at the same place for thirty-four years. Mostly good years, almost all good people. A few assholes, but to be expected.
In the summer of 2018 I drove cross-country, New York to Montana, alone. The plan was to stop in Colorado Springs to visit my Army son and then meet Kathleen in Kalispell where we would spend a week or so before heading back to New York. The pickup was loaded with tools and stuff so I could build a shed on the property we had purchased the year before.
Moving to Montana surprised a bunch of people back in the old country, New York. I mean everyone in NY goes south, Florida or the Carolina's. Who goes west to Montana?
A few observations of living in the Rockies to date:
There comes a point when you just know it’s time to make the change. When the past that led to the present needs a new direction. That change in attitude led me to a change in latitude.
I hadn’t moved in thirty-three years, that’s three plus decades of stuff that probably should have been repurposed years ago. To be precise, we didn’t just move, we relocated 2,700 plus miles.