Marblemount Homestead is a beautiful place in the North Cascade mountains, and my family's homestead and sanctuary close to the wilderness. Our vision is to connect people with the earth, self-reliance, beauty, self-empowerment and inspiration. We sell our own handpainted, handspun yarn and handknit goodies, and we teach classes on cheese making, goat raising, bow making, archery, and wilderness skills.
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Sunday, February 10, 2013
Heading North, saying goodbye, and some apprehension about coming home
We spent the past couple of days with
our sweet friends Brandie and Bradley and just said our goodbyes
today. I can't help but cry every time we part, because they are
just such good people. Why couldn't they just realize that they
should live closer to us? Who cares about the fact that they have
career opportunities where they live now, instead of living in the
boonies with us? But who ever asks me?
We spent our time with them rock
climbing in the bouldering gym where Brandie works, playing cribbage
while sharing high quality beers, sucking helium out of balloons
which left us convulsing on the floor with laughter, eating good
food, sledding, sight seeing in Flagstaff, watching a snow boarding
competition downtown, and visiting a great knitting store. Fun, fun,
Flagstaff welcomed us with snow and
icicles. It's quite a shock to the system, I tell ya. The day before we visited them, we lounged at the Salt River in our BATHING
SUITS. It's quite a shock to the system. Not only because
of the temperature difference, but also because Flagstaff is at 7,000
feet elevation, so breathing is a little different here.
Poor icicle bicycle...
Bradley explaining proper rock climbing etiquette.
Brandie and Eva sharing a laugh.
Before all this fun, we were at the
Grand Canyon, remember? The day after the boys and I hiked in the
canyon, Steve and Bradley were supposed to hike all the way down and
come up the same day. Bradley couldn't go, so it was Steve by
himself. For mere mortals, this hike would take all day. For my
Über-husband Steve, the
whole 12 mile trip took four and a half hours. And that includes a
half hour break to soak his feet in the Colorado River. It is so
unfair that my man is so much faster, fitter, and stronger than I am.
And it's not because he has a regular exercise routine or anything.
It is pure talent and Viking genes, is what it is.
Although I am slightly bitter about
this, I mostly think it's awesome and quite handy to share my life
with a man who is so strong and rock solid and healthy. He came back
with wonderful pictures from his hike in the Grand Canyon. They have
a different feel than my pictures the day before because he went on a
day that threatened snow.
Now? We're are homeward bound, heading
North. I am ever so slightly apprehensive. I don't want to leave
the road and the sun yet. I don't want to be done with this
adventure that has turned out way, way more amazing than I ever
imagined. I am nervous about returning to my old life, which is so
much more hectic and structured and, yes, stressful than our life on
the road. Back home, we will jump with both feet into full time home
schooling, garden preparation, goat births and hoof rot problems, bills, paperwork, and in
Steve's case, hectic work. It's a life that I love most of the time,
and I hope with all my heart that I will love it as much as I did
when we left on our grand adventure.
Here is what I know:
Our dear friends and neighbors are
trying to lure us back. “We've had a few days of sunshine here”,
they write, “and we can't wait to have you home again.” These
people and our friends in the larger community are a big reason we
live where we do. We can't wait to see them either, share meals,
sing and play music, go for walks, do yoga together, share stories of
the past six weeks.
Here is what else I know:
My old, stinky dog Pluto will be very
happy to have us back, a house full of noisy kids and me, his one and
true love (At least I hope so. I hear that the neighbors and house
sitters have been spoiling him rotten, so I am afraid that he will
only open one eye when he sees me, wagging his tail once or twice,
and then go back to sleep.)
I also know that it will be time to
start my onion seeds in the greenhouse, and that March is not far
away, and that the first crocuses and daffodils will soon poke
through the earth. I know that my heart will skip a beat with joy
when I look out at the yard, into the garden, to the mountains in the
distance, and know that I am home.