It’s Sunday Morning and I’m posting bags on Etsy. Yesterday, I had a wonderful day stomping around the woods looking for mushrooms. The chanterelles in my omelet are the rewards of my hunt. As much as I try to fight doing “work”, times like these make me sit back and breathe in gratitude. I am drinking a warm cup of coffee, watching my chickens through the window, and plotting how I will pick up my wood cook stove.
I bought this stove over a year ago when I was living out on a farm. I moved out to a rustic cabin last summer on a farm that I had been growing food on since the previous fall. Actually, “rustic” would be an understatement. My outdoor kitchen had no hot water, heat was provided by my wood stove and layers (and layers) of wool. Nothing ever stayed clean for more than a few hours. My “bathroom” was a tool shed with a bucket that I would dump once it was full. I loved every minute of it. The sense of peace and tranquility kept my stress levels down as I listened to owls hoot in the night, pet the horses, and sat in the field with the cows. After the third snow storm last winter, though, I conceded to a more “comfortable” lifestyle and moved back to town. I had bought the wood cook stove as part of my experimental off-the-grid lifestyle and I had vowed to learn how to bake with it. I had decided that this would be my initiation into being a “real woman”.
Today is the day I move the cook stove back to town and decide what to do with it. It served as a symbol of many things that I accomplished and I shrug off any feelings of failure for moving back to town. That time of my life gave me the knowledge that if I had to, I could live without electricity, hot water, or a bathroom, and I could do it with a smile on my face and a peacefulness in my heart.