Yes, I’ve been quiet for the past few months. I’ve been busy, busy and my down time is very limited.. I have been posting periodically on Off-grid Souls Facebook page, so those who do follow, know we are still here on The Hill. I’ve attempted at writing a few times and end up back tracking, editing, rewriting weeks later. Winter is far behind us now and Spring…well that sprung right by, and now we are into summer. However, it feels more so like we just celebrated Memorial weekend, even though it was the Fourth of July. The windows were closed and we had the heater on low, just to keep the damp chill down. We even threw the down duvet back on the bed for a few nights. The rain we got was well welcomed and I refuse to complain, as we are in dire need of it. The natural spring has stopped flowing and the ground is so dry it’s cracking. Sweltering heat one day, cold and dreary the next. Typical Maine weather.

This spring we were very productive and got a few projects accomplished, along with projects we didn’t know we were going to do, with the helping hand of friends. During this time, I didn’t even have a chance to think about writing, as I was out the door at first light and working until dark or exhaustion kicked in. We knew that Black-fly season would soon be approaching (yes, that a real season here in Maine) we needed to get to the big projects and had only a small window of time.

The biggest project we wanted to conquer was the barely existing driveway. The only part that came close to qualifying as a driveway was the end coming off the road. The remainder was just grass and lawn with packed down tire tracks. Most seasons the driveway wasn’t an issue, mud season (yes, that’s another season in Maine) it was non useable. Winter isn’t usually a problem, except we had 60 degrees and pouring rain last Christmas and Jesse’s work van was mired in the lawn. Thankfully, we hadn’t put the side by side in storage yet. We decided then the driveway needed some attention as soon as possible. With the use of our friend Greg’s farm tractor and dozer we were able to do much needed ground work. As Jesse was removing large boulders and rocks from the lawn, our friend, Pete, ran the dozer and removed the top soil where the driveway was to be installed. The process of removing the rocks amounted to tearing up half of the front lawn. The clean up of that “small” project turned into a 3 day chore. Greg gave me a quick lesson and said, “You’re smart, you’ll figure the rest out”. The next few days I tilled, picked rocks, filled low spots, back dragged the bucket to level, picked more rocks and then some more rocks. Three loads of rocks and 7 loads of moss/ sod, we were ready for seed and peat moss. I chose to use peat moss over straw due to the high winds we have here on the hill. It would have just blown off into the fields. The peat moss also helped hold any moisture from rain water or dew we would get, since we can’t run a sprinkler. Despite the lack of rain, it worked. The lawn is slowly growing and turning green.

The driveway took 2 full loads of gravel. More dozer work was done and manual shoveling. Our friends, Jeff and Tammy, loaned us their grater to haul behind the side by side, which was very handy to level out the driveway. Now, since the gravel has settled and packed, we need a partial load to fill in the few low spots. The next part of the project was to bring in crushed stone for in front of the stairs to minimize tracking dirt into the house. After gathering thick pieces of slate to lay at the base of the steps as stepping stones, Jesse brought in buckets of crushed rock.

In the midst of all the lawn and driveway work, I utilized the rich top soil from the driveway excavation. After collecting rocks from the woods and the sides of the logging roads, I installed 4 gardens. All of the gardens are flower beds with the veggies we eat regularly tucked in among the beds. I LOVE MY FLOWERS!!

With the bizarre fluctuating temps all spring and the numerous windy days we were finally gifted a day that was calm and were finally able to remove the plexiglass windows. As we were unscrewing them from the window casings we noticed that the very few warm days we had previously had melted the weather stripping to the paint. Now the window frames need to be repainted. Once again, we were able to open the windows and let in the breezy fresh air. Removing the windows is actually quite a chore. To store the nearly 8 foot long panes we have to empty out the solar shed. During the colder months, other things tend to land in there and all the seasonal items are stored for easy access.  Long story short…everything must be removed, reorganized and swapped for the next season.

With limited storage space, Jesse cleaned out the porcupine and raccoon ridden over-head in the woodshed to gain more space as we critter proofed it last summer. Plywood was purchased (at a ridiculous rate) and laid for a floor, along with buying more plastic storage totes. The totes that were previously stored in the solar shed were things we may never use again or memorabilia we can’t part with, such as the kids artwork and a few knick knacks I have no room for. Now all the seasonal items are stored in one area, with easy access.

With the warmer days, I’m out the door early and covered in dirt before the sun fully rises. Mornings are my favorite time up on The Hill.  Coffee on the porch, puttering in the gardens and enjoying the sounds and smells around me.  At this given moment the fields are filled with the sweet smelling weed, dogbane. I think that’s what Heaven must smell like. The wildlife, we love so much, has returned and they seem to not be all to phased by us at this point. I’ve caught deer and moose curiously watching me as I work in my gardens (which they have yet to bother) and nonchalantly walk away. Today I saw a mother deer and her twins. Our porcupine friend returned one night, waking me up as he was chewing on a piece of lumber in the alcove. We hadn’t seen him around the yard since last year. I climbed out of bed, tapped on the window and he carried on his merry old way. I’ve only seen him from a distance since. Jesse, Amanda and I watched a very large black bear saunter through at 4 in the afternoon on Father’s Day. The other morning I stepped outside and some critter, apparently incontinent, urinated from one end of the porch to the other. Thanks for that. I guess life has officially returned to The Hill.

Our projects will continue, to keep this gem of ours up and sound, hopefully for another 200 years. We’ve had a few in the works for some time now (since last fall) and I’ve been itching to share them. In due time. Until next time😊

We’re nearly at the end of April and had a rude awakening this morning. I pull the drapes open only to see the wind gusting and snow falling and blowing across the fields. By the looks of social media, many were disappointed by the sight that they witnessed this morning. April has always been an aggravating month for myself. If anything, it’s suppose to be April Showers to bring May flowers. But then again, the old saying never specified the exact form of precipitation. Regardless…I’m tired of snow. I’m sick of grey gloomy skies.. As I know most Mainers are. We all just want to get out from the same four walls we’ve been staring at for months.

As April passed by with a rollercoaster of weather; sun, grey skies, warmth, snow, wind, rain, more cold…all of the above sometimes within a 24 hour period, we are in hopes of true spring. Trees budding, grass growing and life returning to the blah landscapes surrounding us. Wildlife is waking after a long winter and migrating back to their summer homes. It all seems so far away, but every day I notice a forgotten tiny detail, the buds on trees, the animal tracks in the drying mud, the peepers singing from the ponds and bog and the owls chanting their love calls back and forth in the dark (which is quite interesting and harmonized). The birds have returned and our resident ravens are not the only sounds we hear, besides the endless howling winds. These are all signs that we are getting closer to the finish line. Our prize being warm sunny days, windows open to rid of the stale winter air. Bon fires and cookouts resume. Sun kissed skin, dirty hands and feet and countless hours out in the fresh air that we have all ached for.

Over the past few weeks, I have been able to get outside and get all the yard work done and start assessing the winter damage. As the snow melted, I raked and picked up pieces of our roof that blew off during the hellacious windstorm and branches that snapped off of the trees. Let’s just say a new roof is in our near future. As the sod chunks thawed, I pieced our mossy lawn back together the best I could. Puzzles are my thing. I will say I was thankful for the slow snow melt and the breezy days. Our yard and driveway were not half as muddy and bad as last year. Or at Christmas for that matter, when we got multiple inches of rain in a short window of time. Non the less, we still had mud season. Just last week, the Beer Fairy left a package at the door, thanking me for blocking their private road off. Random people, just driving around, deciding dirt roads are a great idea during mud season. This particular road has enough issues from Mother Nature’s Christmas storm already.

A few weeks ago I started taking the winter banking off the main part of the house. With just a crawl space underneath and the wet weather, the house can start smelling musty. The old School house needed to breath before we got to that point. Mid March, I decided to lay linoleum in the kitchen. I love the original hardwood floors, but with animals, they are impossible to keep visually clean. Even after I washed the floor, it looked dirty, throwing my OCD into overdrive. So I bought a flooring that I had used in our old house that replicated old grey wood floors. Not wanting to damage the floors we have, I didn’t glue it down. I cut it to size and used quarter round molding around the edges to hold it and keep it from potentially curling. Last weekend we had another high wind day. I kept hearing this noise. It sounded like wax paper crinkling. I couldn’t figure out for the life of me what the noise was or where it was coming from. Again, I heard it. The cat was in the kitchen with me and began staring down at the floor with a curious twist of the head. This is when I realized how well the banking worked on the house. With every strong gust of wind, the linoleum lifted a smidge, creating waves and then again settled. Gotta love old houses with zero insulation.

As I continue Unwinterizing (my new word) I’m also critter proofing. The main house sits on a foundation, unlike the additions, they are all up on posts. A safe haven for porcupines, skunks and raccoons. All the nuisance animals we don’t want. We’ve been there and done that. No thanks. Every year I would say that I would put up hardware cloth to keep the animals out. I never did. Even after I bought it last spring, it sat perfectly rolled in the corner of the shed. A part of me was afraid that there was already something underneath and I would trap it in. So this time around, as I removed the banking, I put up the hardware cloth. It’s attached to the side of the house and then buried under ground or under large pieces of ledge. Either way, anything gets underneath, it will be obvious. The most we can do is try to deter any unwanted fury visitors.

Within the next few weeks the large sheets of plexiglass will be removed from the windows and we will order the porta potty for the summer season. Both chores are a huge undertaking that can take all day as they both include dealing with two of our storage areas. The windows, once removed are wrapped in blankets to prevent scratching and cracking, while in storage. Everything has to be pulled out of the shed to place them safely against the wall. I take advantage of this time getting rid of anything we don’t use or need and rotating seasonal items such as Christmas decor and snowshoes for gardening tools and outdoor seat cushions or what not. Living in tight spaces means good organizational skills and thinking ahead. The swap from the outhouse to the porta potty is a royal pain in the arse. In the spring I put peat moss down the out house to help decompose the waste. It creates a crust, by drawing all the liquid out and then starts breaking everything down to a fine substance. Well, during the winter months we only use one side and at some point it has to be, what I call “Slung”, I sling the contents to the side we don’t use with a camp shovel….which is more storage. The tiny 7’x7′ room holds a floor to ceiling shelf, clothes rod, a cedar chest and 2 wall shelves. All of our excess stuff that we need; sheets, duvets, luggage, seasonal clothes…the stuff you need and the reason you have closets. We have a makeshift closet. To add the peat moss to the side we don’t use, I have to pull everything out and it fills half the house. It’s a painful job. This time around as we’ve been here for awhile, I’m going to sort through and get rid of the things we haven’t used within the last year. Down sizing. my favorite past time.

As I’ve been anticipating better weather, I keep checking the weather forecast. Fingers are crossed that what I see for the weekend, Saturday at least, holds true and doesn’t change and the weather prediction for the following week sticks. Despite my face looking tan already, I think it’s more wind burn. The sun rarely makes an appearance or even a slight shadow for that matter. I’m ready for a good dose of vitamin D, a camp fire and my flip flops!! What are you looking forward to??

Mainers know all too well about mud season. Especially if they have to travel down dirt roads. Not only does mud season turn the back dirt roads into sloppy ruts and sliding goo, but it has an effect on many of the paved roads, as the frost lifts out of the ground. Potholes and frost heaves are large enough to destroy a tire rim and big enough to launch you a quarter of a mile down the road. Not for real, but it’s always what I vision. Dukes of Hazard style.

Driving the 6 miles of dirt road home, in March, I’m brought back to one of my most vivid memories from years ago. A day that still makes me giggle and smile. Reaghan was in elementary school and had stayed home…”sick”. The day was absolutley beautiful for St. Patrick’s Day. Sunny and warm. I called one of my friends and we made plans to ride to camp for the day and do what we call “Pretend Ice Fishing”. I don’t fish, or eat fish. We just pretend. On solid ground, because I’m not a huge fan of ice either.

Reaghan and I hopped in my Wrangler, which just came out of winter storage, and headed for camp. It was an interesting 6 mile ride. My Jeep had big mud tires for off-road. As we are traveling along the dirt/ mud road, bouncing over ruts and feeling as though we are in a jolopy, we would hit a patch of ice. The Jeep would then start “fish tailing”, which Wranglers don’t really fish tail, they just do a 360. Especially, with big mud tires. We’d then hit mud again, bouncing, swaying and head bobbing. Enough to make you car sick. Then again, ice. This continued all the way into camp. It was a rush to say the least. Reaghan just wide eyed giggled all the while.

Our road is maintained year around. Even before they did a lot of work on it. Back years ago, it was basically a trail through the woods and very narrow. Over the last few years, the Plantation has replaced culverts, dug ditches, raised and widened the “main” dirt roads. Our road is a dead end, so we don’t get as much traffic, which keeps the road from getting too rutted and nasty. Last year, we did have a full size truck with a snowmobile in the bed, come up through, turn around and leave. One. There was zero snow. Two. It’s a dead end. Three. Thanks, Mister Whoever You Are, we now have ruts mid calf on both sides of the road. Not long after we got a measurable amount of snow. Coming and going turned into a game of Memory. Where are the big ruts and holes? And don’t get too close to the edge, it’ll suck you in. This past fall, the Plantation fixed the sloppy spot just before our house, with landscape fabric and more gravel. This year, no issues. Very Thankful.

However, I wish it were the same for our driveway and yard. As the snow melts, the water in the fields behind us runs down hill. Right at us. Last spring we had a moat surrounding the entire house and a river down the driveway. So much water, even the dogs were having a hard time finding a place to do their duties. Trenches were dug to divert the water and we had to park at the end of the driveway and manuever our way through the mud to get inside. Such a mess. Last summer, I would periodically, work on a trench behind the solar shed. I had noticed where most of the water was running from and started there. This past Christmas, instead of snow, we got torrential rain. Stupid amounts of rain for December. The trench I dug by hand did a fairly good job at redirecting the water. It’ll have to be worked on again this summer. A little wider and a smidge deeper.

As March moves along, the weather has been pretty fair and mild. Today, and the past few, have been sunny and reaching high 50’s to 60’s by mid day. A Slow and steady melt is still muddy just the same.

I was on a forum the other day and a member asked if it was possible to shrink wrap the inside of the house, due to mud, dirt and endless amounts of dog hair. My neat freakish ways felt her pain. Willa’s brushed daily and it’s a never ending chore. She walks past the furniture and the hair literally leaps off her. The mud she kicks up on herself, when we go for walks, is ridiculous and her paws…her big ole St. Bernard/Newfoundland paws…M. U. D! I pace her up and down the porch to remove what we can and comb the mud and gravel off her belly. Maybe just shrink wrap the dog? I might be onto something.

Another bonus, with the arrival of a warm spring, we took the Ranger out of storage. Yard work is much easier with an ATV dump body and doing a water run is something to look forward to. Plus, it’s mainly how we get around, visiting the “neighbors”. Two birds, one stone. Visit friends. Enjoy the outdoors.

The forecast for next week isn’t as spectacular as what we’ve been having. This was either a tease from Mother Nature or she knew a break from gusty winds and below zero temps was much needed. And much needed it was. The house has been aired out, spring cleaning and organizing is almost complete and half of the yard is cleaned up. For now, I’ll take it. I’ll take advantage of this weather for our evening fires and morning coffee on the porch. I’m happy, just knowing, warmer days are in the near future.

What’s your favorite thing about spring?

I wasn’t sure if I was going to have time to write this week. With the change of weather, from blustery (being an understatement) and cold to warm sunshine, I figured I’d be outside the remainder of the week. That thought was rudely interrupted this morning as the sun rose and the wind picked up. The wind. Again. Gahh. I can’t complain though. I’ve been able to get my fair dose of vitamin D and fresh air this week and it’s only the second week of March. I’m thankful for the time I was able to be outside.

Our week started off by our Satellite being repaired. No satellite, means no internet and really wonky cell service. Thankfully, we just needed an adjustment, as the winds the previous Tuesday were ridiculous and turned the dish. No costly repairs. I was afraid one of the numerous branches that came off the fir tree had broken the receiving box. We are now back in business.

As the weather forecast showed promise of improvement during the week I started to get antsy and giddy. Jesse had an appointment scheduled for Wednesday and asked me if I wanted to go with him. I pondered my thoughts for a moment. I think I surprised him when I agreed, I tend to not venture all that far. Then I threw at him the idea of going to the coast. We had a plan. We were leaving The Hill for the day.

Spring and Fall, or the “off-season” is when we prefer the Maine coast. Summer, forget it. Far too many people, cars and noise, it’s a mind jumbling cluster. The point of going, is to relax and take in the salty air and the sound of the waves coming in. Enjoy the nature surrounding us. And we did.

It had been almost 2 years since we’ve been to the coast. Our trip usually consists of the same route, sites and places. This time we venture to new grounds and different scenery, even though it was in the same area. Maine has so many hidden treasures.

We set out for Sears Island in Searsport. 940 acres of woods, with sandy and rocky coastline connected to the mainland by a causeway. We didn’t know what to expect. We followed a trail just off the beach and started our adventure. We could have taken a paved road for a majority the walk, but what fun is that? We opted for the muddy, but also icy, travel through the woods. We saw half a dozen chipmunks and heard birds. BIRDS! We don’t have all that many on The Hill in the winter. It had been awhile since I’d heard that sound. All I ever hear are our two resident ravens, sqwaking and grumbling. 2.5 miles later, we were at “The Tower”. Well, that was a disappointment. It was a cell tower. We turned around and went off another trail that led down to the beach.

I had checked the tides the previous night. Being only noon and low tide at 2pm, I figured we were safe. We decided to head back walking the rocky beach. There was so much to see along the beach. We came upon a lean-to someone had constructed out of driftwood, decorated by orphaned bouys. As the tide was going out, there were tidal pools and sandy patches amongst the rocks. The ledge dropping down to the beach front was absolutely beautiful, with the melting snow and ice. The colors in the rock were so vibrant. I couldn’t stop gawking. So much, I slipped on a slippery rock. Classic Jodie. At that point, we were halfway back around the island. I felt it the next day.

As we came around the last cove, it was all sandy beach. Walking close to the water I noticed a crab. As I was admiring the crab, I caught out of the corner of my eye a good sized sand dollar. Always a gem to find at the beach. I held it in my hand for a moment and then placed it deeper in the water. I’m pretty certain it was still a living creature, as it was sitting in water and felt heavier than if you find them further up on the beach. I took a picture of it, in its natural habitat and we finished our hike back to the Jeep.

As much as we love being up on The Hill, a change of scenery was very much welcoming. The lack of snow on the coast in comparison to what we have was a treat. Seeing other colors in the landscape, besides the March dirty snow. To see bare ground!! And of course, there is nothing like the smell of salty sea air. It feeds the soul.

The following day the weather was perfect on the hill. The windows that we are able to open, were opened. Each one soon contained a cat. I hung the quilt out on the clothesline to soak up the fresh air. Willa…well, Willa went out and covered herself in mud. My black and white dog is now tri colored. I puttered outside throughout the day cleaning up the blown branches and the shingles from our roof. Not wanting to waste the beautiful weather and day, we ended our evening with a fire. I’m looking forward to the time change Sunday and the official arrival the following week. Come on SPRING!!

March has arrived. And that’s just what it did. MARCHED right in. If you’ve been following my Blog, you already know I’m not a fan of the wind. It terrifies me. I’d rather drive in a snow storm, then drive in high winds. Tuesday, we had the biggest and strongest windstorm I have ever witnessed, here on The Hill, in all the years we’ve been here. I was nervous and nauseous. All day. 60mph supposed wind gusts. Making the temperature around -30°. I’m pretty certain they were sustainable winds. Not gusts. It just carried on and on. The house shook, rattled, creaked and moaned. Tree branches and debris bounced off the large windows. I kept the shades closed, so I couldn’t see outside and was extremely thankful for the plexiglass storm windows0⁰. Single pane lead glass, alone, couldn’t have handled that wind. At one point, in the afternoon, I took the dogs out. Our poor little,13 pound, Charlie stepped off the porch and sailed clear across the yard. The horror on his face was priceless. I couldn’t stop laughing. Poor guy. He was the joke of the day because that was the only thing I found any humor in. While out with the dogs, I noticed a good portion of our roof shingles scattered around the yard and out in the fields. When I looked up, the shingles we still had, were flipping and flapping like piano keys. Good thing we already had intentions for a new roof this year.

I also wasn’t sure if I would be able to do my Blog this week, as we lost our Satellite due to the winds. No Satellite. No internet and very sketchy cell service. Fingers crossed it’s fixed the first of next week. And that this posts!

The wind eventually mellowed, somewhat, not completely. The rest of the week has been “breezy” and cold. Next week looks fairly promising with sun and higher, milder temps. Just get through the next few days.

I’m not kidding myself, I know Winter isn’t over. The warmer days will bring mud season, then we’ll get a good snow storm. It’s inevitable. Driving on the muddy dirt roads, your not sure if you’re in a rut or if the heavy wet snow is actually pulling you off the road. It’s a great guessing game.

With spring around the corner, I’m looking forward to so many things. My sanity returning mostly. I also can’t wait to get outside, get dirty, dig trenches to divert the water coming from the fields (a favorite pastime of mine), raking up the yard and feeling the warm sun on my skin. Fresh air. To be able to open the windows and get the stagnant winter out of the house. Airing the quilts out on the clothes line. The sound of the peepers at night. Ahhhhh.

There is, however, one thing I don’t look forward to returning.

You always here in country songs something beautiful about a whipoorwill.  Somehow, that god awful, yucky looking creature is romanticized. Maybe down South….not on our Hill, in Northern Maine. Nope.

A few years ago, I was staying at camp alone. No kids. No hubby. No dogs. Just me. It was after dark and I was painting the interior window frame. This particular window had been moved to the east side of the house at some point and was installed horizontally.  Regardless, these windows are huge. I’m carrying on, painting the trim and sashes, listening to the radio. Then I hear a whistle. A loud one syllable whistle. Then a 2 syllable whistle.  Like you hear a person do. My hair stands up on the back of my neck, my heart stops, then races. I’m inside, with a light on. It’s pitch black looking outside. I’m scared to death. Someone is just outside the window, lurking in the dark, watching me.

Then I hear…”Whipoorwill, Whipoorwill, Whipoorwill”.

Never, in my entire life had I heard a whipoorwill, but there was no denying that’s what it was. Sitting on our front step, right next to the window. Giving me heart failure.

Everytime I went to open the door, he’d take off. Then return to the steps. That’s where he perched his annoying butt, the entire night. Eventually, I called it a night and crawled into bed. My curiosity got to me. Being the Google Queen that I am, I looked up Whipoorwill. Well a whipoorwill is a nocturnal bird, spread throughout the Eastern US. It’s a ground bird and blends into it’s surroundings to hide from prey. It’s territorial and mating call is exactly how it sounds “Whipoorwill ” Yadda, Yadda,Yadda.. Then I read the myths and folklore. Supposedly, if it returns three nights in a row, there will be death. Lovely. Time for bed on that note. Due to my unwelcomed guest, I had to sleep with the radio on AND cover my head with a pillow. It was not a very restful night. That damn bird carried on until day break.

That was my first experience with a Whipoorwill. That summer we had four that surrounded us. One would bellow out it’s mating call, then the other, then the other and so on. For the first few years they drove me batty.

This past Sunday was beautiful out. Jesse and I spent the entire day outside. We were standing in the yard and we both heard this sound. It was the combination of a drop and a cluck. I mildly panicked and remembered it was February. With some investigating we noticed water dripping under my Jeep into an indent in the thawing ground. Jesse obviously heard and thought the same thing as me. Whipoorwills, when sitting and not calling out, make this noise, similar to what I just described. A water drop slash cluck. Once you pick up that sound, it’s over.

Even though I have been able to block them out and ignore them over the past few years, they like to remind me they are still around. Reaghan, our daughter, and I were sitting by the fire one night. The whipoorwill dive bombed right between us. Just last year, I was taking a photo of the house with all the lights on and again…it swooped inches from my head. Then again, as I crossed the yard. I grabbed a flashlight and shined right on it as it sat on the propane tank. All I could see was a dark blob with red beady eyes. We continued this game for awhile, from spot to spot he flew. Me ducking all awhile. I swear, those things are the Devil.

With the return of Spring, so will the Whipoorwill. I’ll just once again, have to program my brain to ignore them. Everything can’t be perfect ALL the time.

I become very nostalgic come February. Twenty-five years ago, I was blessed with a title. A new roll. No interview was had. No background check done (not that I needed one). No references required. Not even any on the job training. At a mere 20 years old, I was excited, nervous, scared to death with this new chapter. Most of all, I was in love. I became a mom. Then again, 3 years later. In 2000, Jesse and I married and merged our “mine, yours and ours” clan. Five beautiful girls.

You maybe wondering what this has to do with living off-grid. For us, it’s a large part of why and how we need up here.

Our house had a continously revolving door. It was a busy, non-stop, noisy, sometimes chaotic household. Not only with our girls, but their friends. In and out. All day, every day. Much of our time was also spent on the road. Getting them to their activities; dance, gymnastics, soccer, basketball, cheering, lacrosse and other school functions. It was a lot of hurry up and wait. Hurry up and wait. For years, our daily lives were planned around all these activities.

For more than half my life, I was needed. I had a purpose. It was my responsibility to help mold them into these beautiful, independent human beings. Day in. Day out. I always kept jobs that worked around the girls. Mostly working for myself. I wanted to be present in their daily lives and I was. They were always my first priority. As they got older, they got busier. So busy, that the time flew by, in a blink.

One day, life as we knew it, came to a screeching halt. Our youngest daughter graduated, and just like her sisters, she moved out shortly after, starting her own life. Our house that was once bustling and full of laughter, voices, screaming, music, slamming doors, became silent. Even the menagerie of animals couldn’t fill that void. The silence was deafening.

Empty Nest Syndrome kicked in.

The house wasn’t overly large. Nor was it small. We went from all of the rooms, plus the basement, being lived in and used, to basically only three rooms being utilized. With just the two of us, the house felt empty.

As left behind belongings lingered in the girls vacant bedrooms, I merged them into one. A room that I called “The Special Room”. Bits and pieces of them on the walls and shelves. Stuffed animals scattered around the room. Their left behind blankets, throw pillows and duvets, covered the queen size bed, where I would just lay, thinking, hoping that I had given them what they needed to survive this crazy ass world. Comfy sweatshirts, sweatpants and tee-shirts that were tucked in the bureau, became my favorite comfort clothes. I spent a lot of time in that room. Too much time. I felt lost.

What now? I was no longer responsible for anyone, other than myself. I had all this extra time to myself, that I had no clue what to do with. There was no hounding and nagging. No more figuring out schedules, practices and games. Morning coffee wasn’t filled with anxiety, wondering if they were going to make the bus on time or arrive to school safely, if they drove themselves. There were no more dinners at the table, it felt awkward with just the two of us. No more “goodnights, I love you” at bedtime. No one climbing in bed with me just for some “I had a shitty day” snuggles. So much had changed. So fast.

As months carried on, our days became automatic and monotonous. We both agreed we needed a change.

Well….we got one.

The Schoolhouse (aka camp) has always been our “Happy Place”. When life got to be too much and I needed grounding and centering, that’s where we’d go. It got to the point, we spent more time at camp then at home. Eventually, we discussed selling and buying or building something small. We sold. Quickly. The search and plans began. After months and months of looking, nothing felt right and if it did, it was soon off the market. We stopped looking. The Schoolhouse is HOME.

It’s not that we didn’t like the house we called Home. We loved it. It served our family well. It’s the place all of the girls were raised in and even our grandchildren came home to. But, memories do travel. They are not stuck under the metal roof or within the horsehair plaster walls. They fill our hearts and mind. They are with us everyday. Everywhere. That’s the best thing about memories.

For now, we look forward to the next season, the next project and whatever else lies ahead. Right now, we’re in no hurry. We’ll continue embracing being in the now, the simplicity of the life we have and this amazing experience…Together. In our Happy Place❤ Creating more memories.

A few years ago we had to change out my favorite gas cooking stove. An old 1950ish Vulcan. White enamel coated, with four large burners and 12″ on each side for extra work space. It had the storage door on the front for cookie sheets and other thin pans. I loved that stove. It was a beautiful gem. A beast.

Then the oven went. My husband, a burner tech and licensed LP guy, searched for replacement parts, for months. To no avail, she wasn’t able to be repaired. It hurt to see that beautiful old stove leave. We have history.

Being off-grid, gas stoves are pretty much a necessity for us, unless I want to maintain a wood cookstove for a few hours, to get the temperature I need and then continue to regulate the temperature.  It’s even more fun on an 80° summer day. Not advised. Gas is just easier.

At the house, we had propane appliances i.e stove, heater, dryer. Here, we have everything propane.  I know many people who are terrified of propane. Today, propane appliances all have electronic or battery ignition. Nothing to be too concerned with. Our old, beautiful stove was match light. Many woman (and men) in years past have singed their hair and eyebrows. Myself being one of them.

Moons ago, I came to camp with one of my bestfriends, Diana. It was spring in Maine. Drizzling and raw. We had been outside for awhile and came inside to make dinner and warm up. As we stepped into the tiny galley kitchen, a little grey field mouse scurried under the stove. We assumed he escaped through the hole in the floor, that is now plugged.

The old Vulcan oven had to be lit everytime it was used. Definitely not designed for the elderly by any means. Having to get down on the floor and reach in to light the burner with one arm, turning the knob above your head with the other hand, is pilates. Not yoga. All awhile, trying to light a match AND keep it burning. A circus act at best. I’m personally thankful for butane strikers. Even then, it’s still a pain in the keister.

This particular day I had a brain fart. Then a headache. I was laying on the cold wooden floor, lighting the oven. Being ancient, the knob turned extremely hard for the oven. I’d light the striker and turn on the gas. Nothing. Again. Light the striker, turn on the gas, slight puff. What the hell is going on? I’d never had an issue before. The entire time Diana is standing over me, in the doorway. Again. Light the striker, turn on gas….

Diana screams…(I’m laughing as I write this)

The oven door blows open, slams me in the head. My head, bounces off the floor and closes the oven door. Somewhere in there, as Diana is standing over me, she watches my face and head be completely encased by flames.

I’m laughing my tail off, she’s yelling at me, crying..(still laughing here) “It’s not funny, It’s NOT funny”

Well, dumbass here thought it was. I realized then I was lighting it from the wrong spot. I forgot to open the broiler door and light it from there. Where the burner was. Duhh…

All I had to say about the whole thing:
1. Thankfully it was a rainy day and my hair was wet.
2. Hope that poor cute field mouse escaped.
3. I can be in a coma and remember how to start that damn oven.

I was awarded the nickname “Poofy” that day.

Outside our window is an old apple tree. I have a fondness for this majestic abstract piece of nature. She even has a name, Medusa. Her limbs and branches are bent, twisted, broken and quirky. She’s weathered and worn. She displays growths and scars. Layers of bark peeling, crumbling and falling to the ground. My husband keeps telling me to cut the old tree down. I refuse. Instead, I remove the brush growing around her base. I offer her space to flourish.

You see, Medusa, has two sides. From the window, she looks tired. On the other side, she is thriving. Her branches reach for the sun and sprawl towards the ground. She is solid at the core and deeply rooted. Come spring, she begins to bloom and goes through the motions of the seasons. Playing her part. Being helpful to everything around her, she is still productive. Offering oxygen, nectar, shade and protection. Although, her days have passed to bare fruit, she is still very much alive.

She has weathered many storms, resisted strong blows. She’s withstood the rains and taken heat and the frigid cold. Despite what she’s been through, she perfectly stands.

She’s a beautiful tree.

-Jodie Patterson

Nature. A huge part of me. A lover of the great outdoors.  Lucky for us, the Schoolhouse is surrounded by an abundance of beauty in every direction. All the seasons have something spectacular to offer.

Just this morning, as the sun was rising, I stepped out to take a quick photo. Next thing I know, I’m traipsing through thigh deep snowdrifts, in Mucks, sweatpants and a thin sweatshirt. It’s 4°. If you follow my blog, you’ll notice I love to capture sunrises. Well, this morning was exceptionally beautiful.  With a thick frost coating the trees and shrubs, a left over of the previous nights drizzle, I was fixated on a certain angle. I could have taken the three minutes it would have taken to strap on my snowshoes (and put on a coat and hat). No. No time. Sunrises can change in seconds. In the end, I got the shot I wanted along with aching, frozen fingers. This is how I spend my winters in Kingsbury.

I love the snow storms that layer us in heavy wet snow. The way it sticks to the tree limbs and boughs, like an old heavy quilt. How clean and fresh everything appears. Living the scene of a Hallmark card or a Thomas Kincaid painting. The coat of glitter after a winter drizzle. Making the landscape all shiny and bedazzled. The wind, as annoying as it is to me, carves designs in the snow and builds some artfully crafted drifts and the snowy wind tunnels that twirl across the fields. It can be breath taking. Even on the coldest, darkest days there is beauty to be seen.

And then… the snow melts. Turning the earth to mud and sections of the yard to pond. That’s when you know spring is just around the corner. Mud season (and yes, that’s a season in Maine). It’s not very catching to the eye. Ugly really, and very messy, inside and out. With two white dogs, who have paws they don’t wipe at the door, it’s an endless battle. But as clean up begins, you start noticing everything that’s been dormant, slowly awaken. It seemed with every other chunk of sod we picked up off the lawn, from plowing, we would find one or two spotted newts. Feeling guilty about disturbing them, we either left the sod for a few more days or relocated them.

Buds start appearing on the trees and slowly but surely the birds return. Spring on the hill in Kingsbury is roughly two weeks behind. The opposite of Fall and Winter, which are generally two weeks ahead from everywhere else. When things start turning green, you know you’re in the clear. Or so you think. Mid May last year, we got three inches of snow. The following week it was 90°.

From Memorial weekend on, it’s safe to say we’re good. Majority of our time is spent outdoors. Evening fires return, the sound of peepers, tree frogs and bullfrogs fill the air. The sunsets are once again more visible. Our side by side comes out of storage and is back on the trails. It’s what we wait all winter for. We weren’t able to get much trail riding in last year, due to Jesse’s surgeries, but we made the best of it. Every evening we’d take a ride around “the neighborhood”, as many of the residents do. ATV’s are our main transportation in the warmer months. The experience is so much more on an ATV, then if you were in a vehicle. The fresh air, the hopes of seeing critters, the smell of the woods and all the sights, you’re a part of it.

The night sky is amazing on The Hill. Every constellation can be seen and the Milky way is quite prominent. We try to make the most of meteor showers. Peak time is always in the wee hours of the morning, so we opt for the earlier show. I know we miss a lot, but it’s still worth being outside. Clear skies equal cold nights. Even in August. This past year, along with our friends, we were wrapped up in blankets, as we sat in the Adirondack chairs, trying to look in every direction at once. Cramming our necks. The sky being so large and open, we’d catch more out of the corner of our eyes then anything. I recall a year, Jesse and I, layed out on the picnic table in sleeping bags with the girls and one of Kenzie’s friends. After a conversation of coyotes the girls were ready to go inside. It was ridiculously cold that night too.

Fall. Autumn. The absolute BEST time of the year. Before camp became home, we stayed here Wednesday through Sunday, September and October. Going home just long enough  to take a regular shower, do laundry and plan for the week ahead. While here, even more so now, my camera goes into overtime, from the slightest color change of the leaves until they fall to the ground. I hate when night falls, it’s another day closer to the end of the most beautiful season.  The oranges, reds, bright yellows are all stunning, no matter the weather.  I wish fall lasted longer.

Then we are back to the anticipation of the first snow. Despite how sick we get of winter, come February/ March, I’m always eager to see the red autumn fields covered in white all over again.