Arriving home

Written by on April 7, 2016

One day of sunshine breaks the silence of the snowblanket for a warm moment. But spring is still indecisive and so once more soaks the cold white, that flys around red noses in small snowflakes. Quietly our farm is covered again, hiding the colours of uncomplaining, waiting plants. But my feet remember the paths inspite of the snow and I trust every step they make.The hibernation of nature is disturbed by the strides we take, getting closer to the fulfilment of many dreams as our feet crack through frozen ground. Any possible doubts are swept away by the little goals reached daily and the confidence that lets me grow. I stand at the beginning of all times, where I learn to savely cut wood, light my own fire that is the only chance to feel warmth, while the hearts surrounding me seem to have an infinite source of it.

The isolation finds its borders in the endless world wide web. Thus modernity moves into our office, it is still limited by our lack of symbiosis with nature and its climate challenges. Within an hour of administrative work bones seem to freeze like icicles. Problems become possibilities and creativity is pushed by the need of comfort. Ancient techniques are chosen as part of research as first trys to build a rocket stove with an integrated clay bench are made. The experiments with simple materials inspire and sample the project until a draft is created for the first, but not last heating system. My inner eye looks into the future, where new struggles come as yet another chance to become more and more independent.

My feet are numb from the piercing cold passed on by earth and water, while the sun gently strokes my shoulders. The first butterfly is carried lightly in the wind, a moment of spring. The elements form into a sticky pulp until it has the perfect consistency for the heated clay bench. Though I struggle with the cold I try to see the upside this quality to keep a temperature, to keep us warm. The first seeds are planted, for now under the secure roof of the greenhouse. The energy that we put in their wellbeing now, will be transmorgify given back to us numerable times in a few weeks, when they grow into strong and hopefully fruitful plants. For one second I can almost taste fresh vegetables on my tongue.

Initially we depend on supermarkets to provide food, so we make our way to Italy and use the occasion to spot the materials needed for the rocket stove. Sent from one store to the other the network of useful adresses for projects that lay in the close future is expanded until we find what is needed at this moment of time. The air is filled with excitement about what lays ahead. Air closes its grey curtains again, slow but steady winter comes back. Actions freeze, the rhythm of the seasons prove their power. Patiently I sit by the fire, seeing my fears burn, chances opening. A place of great challenges containing more happiness than one could wish for. While nothing but hands are whats needed to carry bricks, write the first words of a long story and build a house, it is the energy and soul of this place that makes it a home.



Subscribe to Newsletter

April 8, 2016