Car broke down (of course) so some mornings he straps a black plastic tub to his waist, we put fur in the tub and the child and then we proceed onwards, through the snow, we make tracks, we maintain the track… but mostly we stay at home.
I like staying at home. I´m a stay at home mom! Revolution! I own time!
I spend my days knitting potholders because my mother does that and she said “It´s a great sorrow for me that none of my children have taken up the ways of the thread” and there you go… no matter where you run you will never be able to escape where you come from.
I´ve realized that.
I´ve realized a lot!
It´s hard for me to put into words…. the way of the winter. Trees are covered in regal white robes, sounds are muted, snow keeps on falling, like stars from above and there is peace, all around me. Stand still. Absorb.
It´s hard for me to put into words.
So I´ll show you an unimpressive picture and then I´ll tell you why it matters.
This is our Kenwood Major. It cost a fortune and we couldn´t afford it, we bought it anyways. It must be five years old now, same age as the child.
When we went into the woods we only took with us what we could have in the car. We took all kinds of stupid things with us, we didn´t know better, we didn´t know that what you need in the wilderness is a black plastic tub in the winter and a tipi in the summer, not forget wheel barrows, we just didn´t know.
I wanted to throw away the machine. Seemed overly stupid to bring it with us because 1) we had no electricity for the first years, 2) “how lazy can one be, I can knead the bread and meat with my hands, we don´t need it!”
He said “NO!”
I don´t know why it meant so much for him but I accepted that it did.
For four years the machine was hid away under some rugs or in a messy box, in a tent, on the loft or outside in a shack. I didn´t expect it to work but it does.
So I spend my days baking sweet bread and meat loafs. I spend my days listening to this song and I can tell you why it matters
It matters because of this: my sister came to live with us the first year in the forest. She brought with her an ipod.
I´m not against machines. I just wanted them to be neccesary for real, I wanted to know!
I know now. I know about machines. I´ve realized a lot about machines. Some day I´ll tell you.
The speaker hung from her leather belt and we all listened to this song for days and days we listened. It was the fall and that fall was a fat lady singing. What a bitch.
The sound of axes swinging, the sound of the river, the sound of all of us sitting by the camp fire in the evenings, listening, we listened to this song, we rocked our heads and our toes while drinking warm rum and it was goooood.
Good times. Indeed.
I´ve been speaking too much and too long about our hardships and our miseries because 1) I wanted to give an honest account of our experiences, I didn´t want to fall into the traps of over romanticising our life in the wild, I would not surrender myself to societal archetypes 2) we went through a lot of hardship and misery.
It´s pretty fucking perfect right now and I have never- ever- experienced the way of the winter, not really, not truly, you have to cover your naked self in snow, you have to surrender to the fire to feel it.
I don´t know what to do with all of this. Days slowly sink into eachother, time unfolds, I melt, I know… I´ve reached that place.
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