A Cold Rain Starting

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A cold rain starting
And no hat –
So?
~ Matsuo Basho

 

Its thirty-four degrees outside and raining. The snow on the ground is both crusty and slushy. Not my ideal of winter weather and I wish it was both colder and snowing. Madeleine awakes, hears the rain on the bus roof, looks outside and exclaims, “It’s raining!” She is excited and thrilled and adds, “It’s really raining and hard,” although I don’t think it is raining very hard. I catch myself just before I say, “Yup and I wish it was colder and snowing.”

I am soon caught by her excitement and find myself hastily putting on my rain jacket in order to keep up with her as we head outside to play in the rain and slush. I am soon having fun and enjoying the sound of the rain as it falls to the earth. Plus warmer snow is much better for building a snowman.

 

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So why was I not simply and immediately excited by rain as she was? Seems that I, like all of us, exist too much in our heads and in the realm of “wishing for something else.” I find myself all too often wishing for something other than what is actually happening and searching for something just a little more perfect. Do you feel that same way?

Rain is okay, but wouldn’t snow be so much better? What then….

Plop! a large rain drop falls from far above and hits me right on the rim of my glasses, ricocheting into my right eye. Wow, that sure woke me up from my mental reverie! Instantly I am surprised out of my mind and into the body and mind that is larger than myself, namely the present. This exact moment and for a moment I am here. Right here! Now! Rain!


written by David LaFever

The Color of Snow

I had forgotten how the colors change.  We have spent years in a place where the color of the landscape stays roughly the same throughout the year – various shades of greens and browns in the forest; the various shades of green and blue and grey of the ocean, depending on the sun or fog conditions; the color of fog and raincloud, the brilliant blue sky or blazing red sunset.  Subtle variations, but always green and vibrantly alive.  And so you forget.  You forget how overnight the world can change from a color-filled place to one that is almost mono-chromatic, a world that looks like an Ansel Adams photograph, except that there are colors – muted greens of pine needles, barely visible beneath the hoarfrost that coats each needle and twig, and the dark brown of tree trunks, appearing almost black in contrast to the pure white snow.  The sky itself can be almost white, too – it would be hard to tell where the land ended and the sky began except for the black dots of trees and shrubs that are dotted right up to the top of the mountains.  So different from the vibrant green of coastal California – not so lush, but still alive, just lying dormant and resting.  As I drove to work the other day I was mesmerized by the colors – or really the lack of colors.  It was all so stark and so overwhelmingly beautiful, and I realized that this first winter in the Methow may be a very special time indeed – an opportunity to appreciate how different this place is from where we were before.  As the years pass we will remember what winter looks like, we will have expectations of what winter is, what it “should” be, when it will snow, how much it will snow.  We may try to fight these accrued expectations, but they are often unavoidable.  We have a blank slate here this winter, our first winter, which can be a really amazing thing.  I feel open to what is happening around us, without having any history in this place to compare our experience with.  I didn’t lament the cloudy days of late November (perhaps because I just moved from a place where rain and overcast weather is the norm in late November!), or the less-than-usual amount of snow we received in December… it is all new for us, and each day comes and we see what it brings.

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About a week before Christmas it did snow, the first significant snowfall since before Thanksgiving.  People in the valley are happy for the snow, because now everyone can get out and ski!  The trails are groomed and open, the downhill ski resort will open soon, and all just in time for Christmas – a joyful time all around.  The first morning after the storm we all went out to play in the snow, shoveling a big pile for the girls to play in, fall on, roll down.  The wind was blowing a little, and every now and again a branch of one of the tall Ponderosa pines would shed it’s burden of snow.  The snow would start to fall and then get caught in the breeze, which would stretch out the snow into a long plume, like a flag waving.  It was sunny today, and the “snow flag” would sparkle and drift down, slowly stretching out more and more in the wind, until it disappeared.

Yesterday it snowed again, and now we have a couple feet on the ground.  Several times in the night I heard the soft thunder of snow falling from the trees – miniature avalanches right outside the window!  None of us have been under one… yet!  And with all the snow and cold weather we are learning about the new season of life in the bus – much different than roasting in the summer!  As we meet more and more people in the valley, we are getting to be known for being the family that lives in a school bus.  There aren’t many around.  Now that winter is fully here, we are often asked if we are staying warm – fortunately the answer has been yes.  Around Christmas we experience our first true cold “snap” with lows around -10 Fahrenheit.  We were cozy in the bus, between the wood stove and the propane wall heater, but it’s also been interesting to see how the cold creeps in around the edges so much.  We have some insulation in the floor and walls, but left the windows as they are, which is something we love about the bus – it has lots of light and you feel very connected to the outdoors when you are in it.  There is not much separating you from the outside, and so now is the season when we try to make more of a separation – thermal curtains, insulated “skirting” that goes around the bottom of the bus to keep the wind from whistling underneath, plastic over the windows.  I am thankful we went for a propane wall heater that can really crank out some heat – we have a wood stove installed as well, and both are important for keeping the Cozy Turtle cozy during the winters!  With all that, the Cozy Turtle warms up quickly, but it also cools down fast too.  Water condenses on the inside of the windows, and on very cold mornings there is ice on the inside of the window sills.  I have a theory that we could tell how cold a night it was based on how far up the window the ice gets… during the cold snap the ice was halfway up the lower bus window, and then a thick layer of frost all around the bottom edge of the window too!  The floor of the bus is pretty cold too – around freezing when we put our little indoor thermometer down there, while the ceiling of the bus is often around 75!  Quite a range of temperature inside, and I’m glad that we didn’t try to have anyone’s bed too close to the floor!  Perhaps the most annoying winter-time bus living thing is the front door – the roof is warm, so the snow on top slowly melts, and the melting snow drips off the side and makes some awesome icicles.  Next to the front door we have a major water runoff spot, and it pools at the bottom corner of the hinge-side of the door.  So some mornings the door is hard to open and we have to chip off a bunch of ice.  Someday there will be a covered entryway that will hopefully solve the problem, but for now we keep a rubber mallet and chisel handy.  And this might all sound just terrible to people reading this!  But really, how recently has forced air heating revolutionized our indoor living environments?  Is it truly a hardship to have the floor be cold enough to warrant putting down rugs and wearing slippers?  Our children are warm in their beds at night (oftentimes too warm  when they go to bed to have more than one little blanket on), which is really the most important thing I suppose!  We are feeling very fortunate to have warmth in abundance (so thankful for wood to burn and that we can afford to fill our propane tank!), and have a pretty comfortable home to live in!

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What do the girls think of all this?  A friend was visiting last week and asked the girls if they liked all the snow – both of them instantly screamed “YES!!!!!” and howled and made a lot of noise.  That pretty much sums it up.  They love the snow, and spend a lot of time outside in it.  During the cold snap we spent more time inside – it’s hard to be outside when it hurts to breathe.  But fortunately that only last a few days.  Now the temps are back up around 20, and I really did not anticipate that I would actually have the thought “Wow, 20 degrees is really comfortable” but there it is.  The girls can play outside for a long time before needing a break, and they don’t need the break to warm-up, but just a chance for a snack!

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Some friends have asked for more details on what life in the bus is like – and really it’s just like life in a house was but with a lot more “excuse me”s, toes being stepped on, and time spent waiting for someone to get in or out of the entryway so that you can have a turn to put on/take off your boots and coat.  It seems that children are often credited for being very adaptable, which I have found to be true for the most part – but I think adults can be just as adaptable if the mind is open and ready.  Life in the bus is just life – we all get along the way we generally always have.  We still cook dinner every night.  Having our water come from a 5 gallon jug on the counter is shockingly normal (although come spring I have plans for getting the faucet running – but right now we don’t want to have to worry about the water tank freezing.  We do spend a bit more time cleaning up after ourselves, which is good practice for the girls anyway – space is tight, so if you want to start a new crafting project, well, you gotta clear off the table first!

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In September we got a puppy – a little border collie/heeler/corgie mutt who has really only improved life in the bus.  Shocking, I know.  I think I expected to regret getting a puppy on some level, and am still surprised at how great a fit the little pup is into our life.  Her name is Stella.  She is mostly black, a bit of white on the paws and chest, and she takes after her Corgie ancestor in many ways – short legs, small stature (great for a bus!).  And also has the brains of the border collie – she learns things so fast, and is extremely connected to her people.  She does not wander far, which is great since we don’t have a fenced yard, and she hardly barks – when she does bark we know there is something to see, whether it is a biker coming down the road or a couple coyotes running through the meadow 50 yards away.  The girls love her more than just about anything, and she sleeps snuggled on the end of one of their beds every night.  She was an unplanned addition to the family, but one that has been much appreciated by us all!

Christmas in the bus is a bit different than in a house – there is no space in the living area for a tree!  The girls cleaned out a bunch of toys and folded down their little craft table in their room so we could squeeze a tree in there – a tiny 3 foot high tree, and we picked out only our favorite ornaments to put on the tree.  There is very little space for presents, so most are still packed in their boxes, which is far less tortuous for the girls anyway!  We did decorate with lights on the exterior, which is fun (although I inadvertently made the bus kindof look like Mater… it has lips now….), and there has been some great cookie making on the interior while watching our favorite Christmas movies, so some things haven’t changed at all!

As we quickly approach the end of 2017 I am looking back on the past year and thinking about what a busy and eventful year it has been for our family.  I am proud of how our girls have handled the transition we thrust on them – both have adapted so quickly, and are blossoming!  I have personally felt more stress in the last year than I think I’ve ever felt in my adult life, but I am so grateful to be here and to have taken this leap that we dreamed about for years.  We all are feeling at home here and are happy we made the move to this beautiful place.  I hope you all are feeling peace and contentment wherever you are!

Happy New Year!

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Dense Peaks Thick With Snow

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Always it’s cold on this mountain!
Every year, and not just this.
Dense peaks, thick with snow.
Black pine-trees breathing mist.
It’s summer before the grass grows,
Not yet autumn when the leaves fall.
Full of illusions, I roam here,
Gaze and gaze, but can’t see the sky.
~ Han-shan (“Cold Mountain”, an 8th century Chinese poet and wild mountain sage)

 

I step outside into a cold, clear dawn. Its crisp and the world is very still. Frost covers anything left outside and the dark green pines are delicately frosted like wedding cake. I breath in and feel the cold air hit my lungs, hurting my nostrils which is a sure sign that it is cold. I set up my meditation spot in its usual place – the porch of the abandoned double-wide next to where our bus is parked –  and wrap myself in a sleeping bag, settling in to meditate. Breathing in and breathing out, counting breaths, I focus and settle down. Quickly I become focused on my finger tips and toes which are cold and getting colder, at least that is what I feel. After fifteen or twenty minutes, I bow, get up, put my cushion and sleeping bag away and head back into the bus. Damn my toes and feet are cold and hurting. I wonder how cold it is outside as I plop down on a stool (an upside down five-gallon bucket) next to the woodstove. Cozy and warm.

While I didn’t know how cold it was in terms of degrees Fahrenheit or Celsius, I sure knew how cold it was in terms of body and sensation. As I sat there warming up, I wondered, “Did I need to know what the number was or could this experiencing of cold be enough?” My mind kept wanting to look up how cold it was, which would come from a local weather station and might not represent how cold it was at our place (known locally as one of the coldest places in the valley). “Well I could just go and buy a thermometer at the hardware store,” I thought.

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Our minds or at least mine anyway is always searching for an answer, for an explanation for things. Where does this come from? Is it a hallmark of human consciousness or is it a vain attempt at making sense of a world that is ultimately unknowable? Do we seek out the “truth” because we are scared shitless about both the uncertainly of our lives and the certitude of its finality?

I found that I had to make an effort to just let go of the impulse to know just how cold it was. Andy why did I need to know? Probably just so that I could congratulate myself or boast to others about how tough I am.

The search for understanding and knowledge is not a bad thing and in fact it’s a wonderful characteristic of humanity. What I am discovering, however, is that I can know in a lot of different ways including what I think is the deepest way – not knowing. This not knowing is an open-hearted way of being that allows our life to unfold naturally, with us as co-conspirator rather than absolute controller. The insatiable drive to know everything combined with the fact that we cannot possible know everything means that we are left always feeling a bit dissatisfied. Did I really need to know what the temperature was when I already knew, in a very direct way, just how cold it was? What would this knowing do that not-knowing could not?

I pondered these thoughts as I held a hot cup of coffee in my hand and then I just put another log on the fire, letting go of desire to know how cold it was that morning. The subsiding pain in my fingers and toes told me all I really needed to know anyway.


written by David LaFever

Smoky enough to make you appreciate

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Morning view from home of red sun rising.

 

Earth Verse by Gary Snyder

Wide enough to keep you looking

Open enough to keep you moving

Dry enough to keep you honest

Prickly enough to make you tough

Green enough to go on living

Old enough to give you dreams

 

This summer has been wrought with smoke and fires in the Pacific Northwest and with no real relief in sight. Here are a series of pictures from our days here in the Methow Valley of north-central Washington. When its very smoky, we mostly stay indoors but at times we just gotta get outside for a bit. Most mornings I wake up and think “coastal fog” like our days living on the North Coast of California. Unfortunately its not the coolness of coastal fog but wildfire smoke from British Columbia, Montana, Oregon, and here in Washington.

For the full experience, go light a campfire, if you are on the east coast only, and take a deep breath. That’s what is smells like and this is what it looks like. It sure does make me appreciate clear air and gorgeous mountain views!

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View while driving to work – no valley, no mountains.
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Madeleine paddling on Black Pine Lake. Distant peaks are invisible.
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Sisters paddling together!
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Black Pine Lake with obscured peaks from early August.
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Smoky Washington Pass and hairpin turn.
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No valley can be seen.

 

 

We built it. We moved it. Now what?

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Hello and welcome to my tiny home!

We bought this beast of a bus over two years ago, and spent so many hours and long nights tearing it apart and then putting it back together again, in a way that we dreamed up and designed and built.  Did we finish it?  Not quite.  So many loose ends were flapping in the breeze when we pulled out of that tiny side-yard she’d been parked in for so long.  There is trim missing, a tiny half-wall still to build so no one scoots their chair back and falls into the entry stairs, a door on the girls’ room, the tiny magnets that hold the pantry doors shut, drawer pulls on all the drawers that had been custom-made (some of which could still stand some tinkering).  The plumbing wasn’t done (we installed the steel cages that hold the tanks under the bus the DAY before we moved – nothing like waiting til the last possible minute…), and the propane lines weren’t installed.  But we packed the bus to the gills (didn’t realize just how much stuff we were taking!!), put the canoe and bikes and a plastic slide on the roof rack (also installed days before departure), said so many goodbyes and shed tears, and then took off, because it was time to go.

The drive north was so much smoother than I dared hope for.  Slow – YES.  SO SLOW.  We averaged 45 miles an hour.  But dang, that bus was so heavily loaded, but that Turtle just kept on going.  There was not a single hitch in the drive up.

And so now we are here, and what is it like?  Well, at first it was more like vacation – we parked at the second-home of dear friends, who generously offered up their driveway.  It is the property that we came to first, and where we first looked at each other and said, “Well, this feels like home.  How weird that we’ve never been here before.”  And so we slowly unloaded the bus into a storage unit.  I drove the bus to work for TWO DAYS – not exactly the ideal commuter vehicle.  Then we slowly started working on the propane and the plumbing.  And I mean S-L-O-W-L-Y.  Heck, we STILL haven’t finished the plumbing. Between starting a job and getting to know the area, and visiting with friends who came to the valley, and trying to make new friends, there has been shockingly little time for finishing our new home.  This fact in itself has been very frustrating for us – already it is August and we don’t have the sink plumbed or the tiny trailer bathroom even CLOSE to completion!  In mid-July we moved from our friends driveway – the bus was parked in full sun and was getting ridiculously hot during the day.  We are parked about one mile down the road, on the property of friends of friends of friends.  It’s that kind of place.  We are calling our new spot “Wolf Creek Woods” – we are in Ponderosa pines and keeping much cooler in general.  One great thing about dry heat – the shade is so refreshingly cool.  At our new parking spot we do not currently have electricity.  These is power on the property, but it hasn’t been hooked up in years and the process of getting it connected is taking awhile.  So, even if the sink was plumbed, our water pump wouldn’t work anyway, so we don’t have running water at present.  Instead we use a big 5 gallon rubbermaid on the counter and a bucket under the sink to catch water.  Rudimentary, but functional for the moment.

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Some of the really joyful parts of living in the bus so far… the girls LOVE IT and are so excited to be there.  On days when it was in the 90s inside the bus (parked at our friend’s house we were in full sun), those girls would be in there playing in their underwear!  Their enthusiasm is quite a marvel to behold.  At Wolf Creek Woods, amongst the pines, we are woken EVERY morning by the shockingly loud chitterings (how do you describe their sounds??) of red squirrels.  We were actually woken the first two mornings by a red squirrel INSIDE the bus – we finally realized the driver’s window had been left wide open!  Ah ha!  Living in the bus feels very similar to camping.  There are so many windows, and so many of them are open, the separation between inside and outside is very thin.  We can hear so much of what is happening outside, and the wind blows through the whole bus.  While we like this aspect of bus living, it is also making us think about all the ways we can make the separation greater in the winter months.  We will have to make insulated curtains to cover the windows and the driving area.  We will put plywood around the perimeter of the bus to stop wind from blowing underneath.  We are about a day away from ordering our wood stove – the propane heater is installed already!  Lots to think about.  And one last thing about the joys of tiny bus life – it is much quicker to clean!!  Although, as you can see from the photos, the girls desk is pretty much a cluttered mess (you can’t actually SEE the desk), but one can only spend so much of the summer days cleaning up after kids.

 

All in all, we are excited to be finally living in the bus – we’ve set up an outdoor kitchen, and the hammock and canoe often act as the outdoor living room.  Whether we will stay in the Wolf Creek Woods through the winter or find a different place to park remains to be seen – we’ll keep you posted!

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Written by Kristin LaFever

The Glittering Light of Aspen Leaves

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Stone Meadow, mid-summer.

Nearly two months to the day after we arrived in the Methow Valley, we left Stone Meadow and moved a mere mile farther into Wolf Creek. Stone Meadow is both the house and land which welcomed us so warmly and completely upon our arrival. We didn’t know just how important it would be to have a first place to stay and one that we already knew so well (we stayed here every other visit to the Valley). Stone Meadow was where we first fell in love with this place and it made sense for us to return there before launching forth to an unknown nook of these amazing mountains. I remember our very first night, nearly six years ago, as we awaited the arrival of our friend. Kristin and I stood upstairs, sharing a beer and gazing wondrously at the land all around us. That very first night, we felt we had come home to a place we had never been before, and I knew that this was the place where I would live out my days and return to the earth at the end of them. My Great Changing would occur here. With each subsequent visit we were reminded of the deep, intuitive calling to live here and we have heeded that call. This all began at Stone Meadow. And now it is time for some place else to weave its thread into our tapestry. In gratitude I wrote these words on our final day:

This place, these stones, this sky

Intimate, still, and vast

Has seeped into my bones, and in my marrow

The ceaseless sound of flowing water.

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The top of the Cozy Turtle (our bus/tiny home) and Stone Meadow sunset.

And so with a bittersweet taste in our souls, we loaded up the bus again like a covered wagon and moved on down the road. We are now on the land of a friend of a friend of a friend, still in the area known as Wolf Creek but farther northwest into the woods. There are towering ponderosa pines and Douglas-fir trees above the bus, which are home to nuthatch and the constantly chittering red squirrel (two of whom visited us in the bus on each of our first two nights there). This new land has a completely different vibe, view and feeling. There are views to the east and we awake each morning with the force of the sun, heating up the bus and shining on our faces. We cannot hear the ceaseless sound of Wolf Creek but the Methow River is a short walk away. There is the sound of wind through trees and the glittering light of aspen leaves fluttering in the sunlight. We don’t know how long we will be here but for now this place contains the whole of existence.

Magic in this world

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Here are two moments from my day, both shared with one of the most amazing people in this world:


Sitting across the wooden table from each other, quietly eating our lunch – mac-n-cheese for her and leftovers for me – and she turns to me with a deadpan look and says, “There’s magic in this world. I know because I saw it.”

Like a hammer striking the sky, I was stunned by such a revelation, which of course I know to be true (but all too often forget due to being a “grownup”) and hoped she did as well. The world is full of magic but we seem to forget to see it.

Her eyes were ablaze with magic, excitement and wonder. They were twinkling like stars on a moonless night, like so many nights here in this valley. We looked at each other, smiles slowly emerging from within, creeping up from the corners of our mouths and spreading across our faces until we were both laughing. We laughed because we knew – there is magic in this world!


She’s sitting at the table, both elbows resting on its wooden surface for stability,  a purple marker in her right hand. She is drawing and concentrating so hard on what she is doing that her tongue is sticking out ever so slightly. A quintessential act of concentration. Her map, of trails, campsites, lakes and rivers, is really coming together and now she is adding footprints to the trail.

I sit watching her, enjoying the look of concentration on her face and how it changes ever so slightly from moment to moment, especially the tongue, its position and how much is exposed beyond the lips. I guess I could be distracted by something – a book, dirty dishes, a smartphone or this journal – but this is far better than all that and more. Just here, just watching her drawing is enough and I am at peace.


Written by David LaFever