Space. We run into each other a lot. The dog gets all confused and can’t find a way to get out of the way when we are both moving around.
Wind storms are scary.
Peeing outdoors during a windstorm is messy.
We didn’t pay the extra money for wall insulation. We regret this decision.
The walls can seep, wetting things you don’t want wet. (wish we got insulation!)
Rain can be louder than expected.
Never underestimate the value of sturdy out-buildings. (You’ll want somewhere else to go in the winter.)
When the fire is blazing, it is gloriously cozy.
No corners for loosing things.
Rugs were a good idea. And floor insulation.
We read books instead of watching television.
Food tastes better in the woods.
Two LED rope lights light up the entire yurt.
Oil lamps are a cool thing to collect.
The moon peeks right in the domed skylight.
In the summer, the sun does too.
I always smell of campfire, coffee and wet moss. My signature scent.
Last night flung itself into a rage. It cried. It wailed. It threw trees around. It surrounded the yurt and peered in the skylight. It broke the chimney and left drifts of snowy ash against the lattice.
“Are we still in Kansas, Toto?”
“Are we still in Oregon, Pixie?”
“Where is the flashlight? Where is the match and the candle?”
The road was bristled with needles and broken branches. None of the usual road kill. Skunks, deer, cats and coyotes were in deep hiding. Perhaps huddled and cuddled together, the douglas squirrels and the martins; the moths and the snakes; the elk and the wolves, waiting for the day to calm the night down. Soothe it with light and song. But the night lifted itself and blackened the sun. And day could do nothing but wait as well. Waiting for the rain to become deep hiccups and the wind, shuddering gasps.
Great lakes pool in the middle of roads. Rain splashes in all directions. Noon is as dark as midnight.