Dreaming of building my house of dreams

  Recently, I have been dreaming of building my own home. A home with a garden. I think about the shape, how the garden would look, how the house would look, what materials I would use. It would be a small house, cosy and quaint, with a small greenhouse off to the side for plants to grow and light to stream in showering the rooms with sunlight.   A few months back while perusing a copy of Mother Earth News, I came across one of their articles highlighting unique garden sheds folks have built. I don't know if my jaw dropped first or the magazine, but there on one of the pages was my dream house starring back at me. In this case, it's a garden shed but the shape of it, the very idea, there it was, alive. This shed stands happily in Mansfield, Ohio. Though I will not be relocating any time soon to Ohio, my dreams linger onwards with the affirmation that I will soon find myself building the house of my dreams. And all around it, gardens will grow. Birds will sing. And I will be home.

Planting seeds, growing roots

Wintertime. When the world is blanketed in white. The sky, often overcast, waiting with trepidation for the snow to fall, those gentle flakes coming from the sky and laying claim to all trees, ground, and rocks. I love winter in that it is a time of slowing down. Solitude. Of endless challenge and adventure trying to figure out how my legs work with skis attached to them, wondering if I will make it down the hill, this time remaining upright. Though new to skis, most days I welcome the falls, it means that I am learning, it pushes me to get back up and to try again. It teaches me, that like all things, it takes practice.
Winter is also a hard time for me, in that I dream of days where the sun is warm, with bare skin and a gentle wind that makes the leaves in the trees dance with delight, and the whole world grows green with life.
Though it is mid February, and as I look out my window, I am met with a mild winters day, and a world still covered in snow, I can't help but to turn inwards and dream of tiny seeds in my hand, watching them drop into the soil, and then growing into first small indecipherable sprouts until they begin to show their first leaves becoming recognizable. I close my eyes and see green all around me, with small flowers in bloom, turning into fruit. Bees buzz around collecting pollen, birds chirp, swooping here and there as if dancing in the glow of the suns rays celebrating each moment. I feel my fingers twitch and realize they are looking for the earth. What I would give to be able to plunge my hands into the soil, preparing the bed for the all the different plants that are soon to begin growing.
It is February.
Though winter may still be here, and though I live in a climate where it would be unthinkable (and a rather silly notion) to go outside and try to grow something, there is the wonderful possibility of growing things indoors.
I feel lucky these days. I live in a house. Just writing these 5 little words fills my heart with joy. I live in a house! It's wonderful. This house is full of life, with sunshine and light that pours in from all directions, the houseplants are happy reaching their green leaves up as if always exclaiming "YES!" to no one in particular, while us three inhabitants gather around our kitchen counter musing about our days, making home cooked meals and letting our lives unfold before us.  It's been awhile since I have found myself in one place, with no immediate intention to move. And must say that I welcome this feeling of being rooted to one place. I thought I would be scared to be in one place, that I would somehow get stuck, and lose my independence to roam, but instead, in many ways, it has given me more freedom, it has given me a sense of place and belonging which also brings the security of knowing that if I were to go out into the world, I have a place to come home to.  And if that isn't enough what I have come to realize is that I can do things that have been but mere dreams of  a traveller.
So with fingers twitching, I begin my first project: an herb garden for the kitchen. I've thought often of what herbs I love to cook with: basil and chives, two relatively simple herbs to grow and enjoy. So to also add a challenge to the mix (as I believe that we should need a challenge to keep us on our toes!) I selected rosemary.
And now, without further ado, time to get growing!

Today is my birthday!

I turned 28.

For breakfast, I ate gummy bears.

Everything tastes so much better on birth days.

As I welcome this day,

I celebrate the moments I have forgotten to see.

The gifts that aren't wrapped in fancy paper.

All those beautiful moments that remind me

How lucky I am to be here.

One such memory:

A day at the ocean.

We danced and watched crashing waves

Folding into the sandy shore.

Breathe in. 

Breathe out.

I wished I was swimming, 

Surfing between the waves.

I swam,

Somewhere else.

Let me be brave,

Said my thoughts,

Going beneath the surface

Cold. Cold. Cold water.

A gasp of air,  

Scuttling to shore

In hopes of outrunning the cold

But then laughing joyously before rushing back in.

One. 

More.

Time.

Highlights, Common Sense and the open road

Ever have one of those solo road trips where around every turn there seems to be something that happens? Well I happened to have one of these such moments as I traveled westwards towards California.

1. Freezing rain and the art of a curvy road. Add in the speed limit and your car is sure to dance in a rather alarming and involuntary way. My car got daringly close to other far side of the road and the ditch below. Heart racing monitor from 1-10: 8.96.  What a way to start the trip.

2. Under a starry sky facing the thunderous waves of Lake Superiour. With wind howling, and waves crashing, I couldn't help but to lift my face to the sky and holler out for the sheer joy of the moment!

3. Cranked the passenger seat down as flat as it would go and nestled up for the night in the VW Golf hotel. May be cramped but its free. In the morning, I had to scrape the ice off the inside of the car. Woops.

4. 5 dogs, a hearty broccoli and rice dinner, a glass of strawberry rhubarb wine, A Christmas Story playing in the background and the company of one very dear friend. A magical and warming night, as we caught up and laughed and shared our stories.

5. Incredibly long journey across the plains. My secret for getting through this tedious section? A very thorough and awesome playlist of top 5 billion singable songs. Works everytime, but be sure to keep the list updated and fresh. Otherwise you're in for a lonnnng drive. Hoarse voice at the end may happen. Just roll with it.

6. Return to an old haunt and enjoy the adventure of visiting all your favourite places to roam. Catching up with my lovely roommate from last winter, and then sharing a delicious breakfast at the local breakfast cafe (the Nova Cafe!).

7. Visit the ole storage unit. How, I wonder, is it possible that I had forgotten that I had: a bike, boxes of books, pots and pans, a shelf and a giant sized bag of linens? Who else would forget all of this?

8.  On a well intentioned plan of taking a different road south, I learnt a valuable lesson, that different isn't always wise. Especially when it comes to selecting faint grey roads on the map. I found myself deep in the heart of ranch country in a snowstorm and managed to get myself stuck in the snow for a brief panicking moment before my luck kicked in, and was successfully able to turn around and return to the road more traveled. Phew!

9. Another night at the VW Golf hotel, nestled between the purring idles of giant transport trucks.

10. Sunrise in the high desert. Sheer beauty.

11. Arrival to Green String farm where I met 11 wonderful people who's hearts are all turned towards food and growth. Happy to be out of the car and fluff my bum cheeks, I explored my new home and dreamed of all the days ahead.

An Autumn moment

Open milkweed, Short Hills Ontario; October 2011

Thanksgiving. That time of year when the leaves begin to change from the bold greens of the summer into the vibrant colours of the fall. The days grow shorter and everyone goes out to their gardens one final time to pick the last of the tomatoes, greens and other autumn delights before putting their gardens to bed before winter. There is a lot to give thanks for.  I look around me and see that life is beautiful in every part.  As I walked through the house, the smells of our traditional thanksgiving dinner cooking in the over, was filling the house and hallways. How familiar and welcome those smells are, reminding me how much I have come to love these moments with my family.  Every year, we sit down together, our table filled with vibrant colours and vegetables with mom's famous stuffed mushrooms and the enchanted broccoli forest. For dessert, pumpkin pie warmed with a nice wallop of vanilla ice cream.  The traditional dessert of autumn. In a few short weeks, outside the colours will all have turned on the trees, eventually dropping to the ground leaving the branches bare. We will gather the fallen leaves, making great piles to jump into, letting the wind sweep them across the yard.  This is the time of year to pull out the wooly sweaters, heat some apple cider and take a long meandering walk in the woods. Why not kick up leaves with your feet? Though we may be grown, there is still room to stay young at heart. I love to watch the leaves soar up and rearrange themselfs on the sidewalk behind me. With every step a delightful crunching.  It's time to soak up those last warm sunny autumn days and to come together with friends and family. Take stock.  Appreciate the change of the seasons.  Let the nostalgia of the days linger on.

Forest Trail in the Adirondacks, October 2011

Family Thanksgiving dinner, looking oddly like the last supper.
In a way, it is our last supper at the house here in Niagara.

Yosemite the great, a circus and some sunshine

What more could a person ask for then a little time to play and explore? After a month of working and endless amounts of squats, I was ready to get out and pepper it up with some fun and sun.  First stop Midpines, where I had the wonderful opportunity to watch the inner-workings go on at another Outward Bound base. So many new and interesting people to meet, who's heart and passion lie in adventure and share a love for the Sierra's.  Since this is my first year being away from the OB community, it felt like quite a special treat to be around for the Midpines staff training. What a great reminder of the human spirit.  Last day of training to kick off the season ahead, was the Midpines staff auction, feat and dance party.  It's theme: Circus freaks and Carnies! These folks brought the night full of colour, creativity, dance moves and some hootin' n hollerin' good times! When not needed on base, and the nights festivities all wrapped up, most folks drive into the valley for days of climbing and exploration within the Yosemite National Park.
Having never ventured into the park myself, I was in for a treat.  What a magical place! Every which way the eye looks is this incredible sight....as if coming out of some pristine fantasy book. I have never seen anything like it before. Giant waterfalls, mountains and cliffs climbing up high into the sky, speckled with trees and flying birds swooping about gaily singing their songs. Let me just rest upon the trees here for a moment. Though I have been witness to giant cones in my fathers wood collection, to see a large cone in the wild, up close in personal is incredible. These were certainly not the largest cones out there, but of significant size to make me grateful that none decided to drop while I stood at the base of these giant pines gawking at their magnificence.  Think those were big, flash forward into another section of park where I got to stand, for the first time, in a sequoia grove. Hmm, where to even begin with this. I have never seen trees so big as these, and apparently they are considered small, which peaks my curiosity as I begin to figure out how and when I will come across the giants! I felt like a tiny any in comparison, but there is something so comforting and inviting about being surrounded by such large specimens. Days were filled with going off the beaten track, exploring areas that few to none would dare see. Second day into the park, we took to scrambling up a gully, parts of which had recently experienced a rock slide. The view just breathtaking. From where we stood, the road just disappeared, making the park seem uninhabited, wild and what it must have been like when the first explorers came into the valley.  Is this what John Muir experienced in his day?  Later along the hike, further up, I had my second go around of scrambling up snow, having to kick in small foot holds in order to make any upwards progress.  A great test of my comfort levels.  Let's just say for now that I am still getting used to my vertical legs....they are pretty wobbly, and unsure of what it is I am asking them to do! But that is all part of the adventure and learning process. If we never try, we never know what is out there, AND we never get any better. Other highlights of my time in the park include braving the giant swing.  Heights, never really being a subject of comfort, have been something of a challenge.  But from time to time I like to get up and test my levels and see how far I can push my little heart racer, expanding my horizons and perhaps, growing just a fraction of a hair more comfortable with dangling hundreds of feet above the ground held on only by a single rope. So, setting my mind to a new challenge, I scrambled up this rock that lead me to a rope which will swing you out into the valley for an incredible view. It's a little scary to be harnessed into a rope that seems to just drop from the sky but I put my 'need to know' feelings on the side and let the experience happen. It took awhile to make take off, but the swing out was smooth, in fact I rather enjoyed it.....the part that gave me the trouble was letting out the rope in order to get my feet back on ground, or rather rock. For a good 5 minutes or so, I dangled wondering if I ought to accept the fact that this may be my new home. Luckily, with some coaching, deep breaths and tapping into some stored inner courage, I slowly began my decent. Phew! Once landed, just for good measure, I went again.  Much smoother second time around.  Perhaps post-Camino, when I return to the valley, another venture on the swing will find its way into the itinerary, though with all there is to see and do...maybe the adventures will continue elsewhere!

The Tunnel 

A rainbow soaring across the sky

Sharing a moment with the Coyote

An evening of friends

Tonight, was our third community dinner.
The month of March has been one of a whirlwind, so, on the fly this one was put together with less planning and fewer invitations. But the heart of the night remained.  A small gathering arrived, bearing food and drinks, while the night began to play out with flowing words.
I cannot even begin to say how much these dinners mean to me. The coming together of friends. Folks from all different walks of life, meeting, perhaps for the first time, and sharing their stories.  It is a continuous reaffirmation of the power of connection.  Tonights crowd was definitely smaller than the last, but it offered the opportunity to have those long and meaningful conversations, drawing out the heart of a person. The quick chat/questions ceased and instead came forth the experiences and sharing of something far greater. Peeling back the layers built around a person. Yes! says I, now seeing these beautiful people beyond acquaintance, in its place stands a friend. It warms my soul that in offering to others these evenings, new relationships are forged, stories are spilled, laughter is shared, as the night slowly slips by unnoticed.

April will be the last community dinner, that I shall host.  As I wind down from this evening, I am glad that there will be one more, as well as glad for the transitions to come.  But still my heart is heavy, for I have come to find home through these gatherings.  When I arrived in Bozeman this fall, I came with the mission of wanting to build community, of putting down roots, and feeling like I belonged somewhere.  I had no idea how I would form idea into something real, but given determination and a vision, any person can go far.  Today, I have begun to build that community, and have learnt that if you offer up your passions, and invite people in, they will come.  First just a few, but then with time, more will come, and your community grows. This has been such a great experience, that has certainly opened my eyes to the endless possibilities.  As I make my way back out into the world, I will carry with me those nurtured seeds.  I hope to continue bringing people together, sharing experiences, and creating the space for each of us to experience that feeling of connection with those around us.
The lessons found in creating community, are endless, and no matter time or place, this mission is dynamic. Constantly redefining what it means to be with another whether it be one, a group, or even masses.  How, I wonder is this done whilst traveling or simply passing through? Is it easier, or more challenging?  What does it take to build lasting relationships on the go? Next stop is living in a camp of treeplanters.  A community already, but also an opportunity to nurture new relationships, to get to the heart of what it means to live, work and play with a new family. Then onto an even greater stepping stone, of which I feel will expand the horizons of what it is that I wish to reach with my goals.  I think about the reasons to why I want to hike the camino. In some ways, I feel this journey is for greater discovery of my self, looking inside to find how I can give back and continue to nurture my seeds of hope for bringing new friends together.  To listen with my heart, and to never stop being curious.

Making decisions

Life as of late seems to be stacking high with decisions. 

I'm not sure if I was always terrible at deciding upon things or if this has been a recent development since high school.  Of course concerning the past, the further back I go, the details become rather foggy. Needless to say, let's bring it all back to the present. The here and the now. 

In life, with everything we do decision-making is inevitable. Every moment of every day, we indeed make choices.  Sometimes we are aware of these choices, others they come from our sub-conscious. We don't even think of them, they just happen, though somewhere from inside us, we have made a choice.

Making decisions. Sigh.

Well, rather, let's take a look at this from a different perspective.  The future.  Another unavoidable subject.  It will come. 


Until scientists are able to invent the human-life remote where we may put life on hold, we shall continue moving forward, our footsteps like the minute hand ticking away on a clock. For as far back as memory will allow, I have been a non-planner planner. What will happen in six months, is as much a mystery as to the existence of giant squids. I've no idea. And yet the time has come where logistical planning seem to be oozing out of the woodwork.  What am I doing from now until summer? What will I be doing from summer until fall? What are my plans and ideas for fall into the winter? Where do I see myself in five years? (ok luckily, I don't yet have to deal with this last question! Phew!)

Not only have these questions been swimming in my own little head, but they seem to spill forth from those around me.  "Fern," they ask, "what are your plans? what are you doing? where are you going?" My answer is oftentimes the same response I offer my own querying mind. "I am not sure yet...but soon I will have an answer"(oftentimes, not said with the utmost of certainty).

I'm not sure. That may very well be my epitaph at this point of time. 

What makes decisions such a difficult task for so many people, myself included?  Why have I placed so much value on the outcomes?  Why oh why, was I given the strong qualities of stubbornness AND being methodical? That just seems unfair! I truly envy those, who are able to just decide like a snap to the fingers. There done.  What are your secrets? Share the decision-making love!

The way I see decisions,  is like the way a person puts together a jigsaw puzzle. There are all these little pieces, with hints of a larger picture waiting to be discovered.  The whole time, you're just looking for pieces, and their neighbouring pieces but never the whole.  (but then really, how can you do a puzzle when looking at the whole? It may very well be impossible).  That is where I currently am at.  In front of me is a bunch of puzzle pieces,  all laid out ready to be put together. I look at each of them. The pieces I have are part of the same puzzle but do not fit together. There are pieces missing.  Maybe they are in the box still, waiting for me to find them to piece together just one section of the scene at a time. 

Currently, the part of the puzzle that I am focused on is an image of a house. Where's the roof? Have you seen a piece with a door? Mirroring my own wonders, of whether it is my time to move onwards, or to stay.  Am I happy where I am?  Where do I wish to be? Do I chose to keep walking away from the house in search of the mountains and wildflowers, or has the smoke coming from the chimney called to welcome me home for rest and repose?  

These are the thoughts that swallow me. It is time to take a step back from the small pieces of the puzzle,  take a deep breathe and relax, maybe make a cup of tea to enjoy, and then take a look at the larger picture.  From there, clarity will come and I be able to look once again at the small pieces, gaining a better perspective of how it will all fit together.

Building homes...

As the holiday season wound down, so came the time to pack up my bags, with jam jars in tow, hop into the car with my traveling companion Liz, and head on back to the West. With adventures awaiting, it is always a challenge to say good-bye. Familiar faces, places, long over-due visits and conversations, when will I return to this place and pick-up where we last left off?  I bid adieu to a different type of home, my family.


A short stop was made, to our family farm in Burks Falls.  I write about this, because, I realize with time how much I desire a simple life.  The farm, a five to ten year retirement plan for my folks, has become  a weekend home, a retreat from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Going up there, whether it be for an overnight, or longer, one can't help but to shed all the busyness off before going through the front door.  Inside, awaits a woodstove, with inviting chairs that seem to beckon without having to do anything except be there. I have not been to the farm since the early spring, and after a long fall and toilsome start to winter, it was a welcome to plop down in front of the fire and release a huge heavy-laden sigh.


What is it about our "retreats" that can make us relax, let down our shoulders and feel completely satisfied with just being?  And why is it that we do not often create this same feeling, in our "regular" homes? Wouldn't it be nice to experience a rustic-escape experience everyday? A place, or haven to  just be still. There wouldn't be the need to worry about what is going on outside the doorstep, or to feel the overwhelming urge to be out shopping with the masses. I wonder, is it the home that creates a feeling of whether we choose to be out, or in? The furniture? Maybe the energy that is poured into the space?  The location? Or is it the way we label place that truly generates the feeling of a space?


In the fall, I undertook the arduous process of looking for a home. Not just a house, but a home. Something that invites a person in. A place that was loved. It took almost a month of searching high and low, through the worst to the best. During this time, what came to mind, is today's architecture -vs- the architecture from days of old. Why oh why, have we lost touch with the same quality and heart that was once so prominent in old houses? It's sad to think that these beautifully built homes are slowly becoming more and more obsolete, and yet the ones that still stand, are so highly desired.  Why not bring back and build these one-of-a-kind homes once again? We need a house revolution!


 I think about my little house here in Bozeman. It is cheery, bright and welcoming. Created in 1909, it still maintains much of it's original character, with a landlord who is dedicated to making sure it remains so. It is apparent that this house is loved.  As my dear roommate and I began to fill our new home, thoughts kept pouring in.  I wondered how I could help create a space to come home to where, shoulders would drop, visitors would feel at home, and more importantly, where one is happy to linger. A home should be filled with love and warmth. Smells of home cooked meals filling each room, as we unwind from our long wonderful days in the great world around us. What is important? What is it that we need, in order to bring life and love into our space? What can we do without?  Why not fill a place with the essentials, creating a feeling that is warm and inviting, and to share that space with friends, family and loved ones, letting the conversations begin to unravel?  A house filled with laughter is a merry welcome and something that no trinket could ever replace.


Let us all begin to bring people in, to build our communities with what we have, while taking our own ideals of home, and turning them into reality. And as we begin to build our own homes, in turn, we too are building a shelter for others.