A Living Magazine - Tap Root: Days 18 to 67 - The Routine

Wearing my Reny's t-shirt and hat combination.

It's been two months since I moved to Farmington. Obviously, I have not posted each day, so I'm going to try to catch up as best I can with this post and then simply post whenever I'm able. To give you some idea what life is like. Here's the general routine...

First, usually I go to bed around 9:00-11:00 p.m. and get up around 6:00-8:00 a.m.

In the mornings I straighten up around the yard and do a lot of mental planning about the construction of the cabin and development of the land until about 10:00-11:30 a.m., when (if I'm planning to go downtown) I pull on Green Bean - my backpack - and walk the three miles into town to write and touch base online.

After writing I stop by the grocery store and buy some form of protein (often steak lately, since they have great prices), tomatoes, onions, mushrooms, cheese and bread (all of which can last a couple days). Then I walk back to the land, getting home around 5:00 p.m. I usually build the fire at that point. As a rule, I only eat once a day at around 6:00 p.m. After supper I will work on firewood, fencing, or similar stuff until it gets too dark. Then I sit by the fire and just ruminate...

Sometimes I'll play my little guitar. I have written about 500 songs, so there is always something to play--solo concerts for the whippoorwill. I never play other people's music when I'm on my own.

If I have enough food left over I will sometimes stay home and work on the land the whole next day, or couple days. I find hard physical work intoxicating--probably why I liked long distance walking so much? That yard work, plus the six miles I walk nearly every day (that it isn't raining) into town, feels like a healthy way to live.

Interestingly, I have had several accidents and other small injuries. Besides falling off the ladder early on (about a month ago), hitting my temple and throat on a tall stump...

...I sliced a piece off my thumb with the machete, my legs are covered with scabs from logs rolling over them and sticks scraping in the woods. I was chopping small branches for the fire and one flew up and hit me just above the eye, and a couple weeks ago I slipped and almost fell into the fire--landed on my knees and scraped them both! I have developed a high threshold for pain.

The mosquitos were pretty bad for the first few weeks, then I found that I was getting good at preemptive attacks on them. Lately, they just don't seem to be as numerous (even after a lot of rain). I must be taking a toll on the population. More likely, the season is changing.

I took down the trees growing on my road and cleared all the brush, so now it meets up with the dirt road (the discontinued town road, called "Staples Road") and is passable by car. Another of my neighbors (three of us share the dirt road as our right of way) puts a chain across the entrance to that road from the main public road (Weeks Mills Road). This has been kind of an issue, because I need to be able to bring in material occasionally. I sent a message to him through the other land owner, Henry--the hay and dairy farmer. And, now he has been leaving the chain unlocked.

At my gate, looking back toward the tent.

Simple.

Looking further down the road.

The edge of my property, looking down my "driveway"

toward the gate, with the tent in the distance.

Old Staples Road, going toward Weeks Mills Road--the public road.

Here's what it looks like to walk in person, from my property, down the woods road that I cleared, then onto Staples Road--the dirt road along the hay field, finally emerging onto Weeks Mills Road...

The walk from my land to the public road.

You also saw the turkeys that come every morning, in the video above. There are certain other animals that I am getting to know. There is "Angry Bird" (the loudest crow) and his friends in the morning, the whippoorwill and owls at night, three or four deer will quietly pass through every other day or so.

I heard some kind of cat doing his tom cat calls a few nights ago. I actually got out of bed and searched around for him--thinking he might be a feral/domestic house cat (as opposed to a wild cat of some kind). Never found him. I did meet a domestic cat at the head of the dirt road a few days a go, but she lived around there.

The skunk was smelly the first times he came through, but doesn't smell anymore. There is (I think) a raccoon who comes around just around sun-up each day. A few afternoons ago I heard a terrible crying out. I walked over to find that a pink frog had been caught by a small garter snake. The snake had bit the frog and was attempting to swallow his legs. One leg was in pretty far, but the other was just up to the foot. It was obvious that the frog was too big for the snake to eat. So, there was this pathetic scene where no one was going to win...

A no win situation

No being burdened with naturalist ethics about letting nature play out its little tragedies, I stepped in to lend a hand. The frog was making most pathetic sounds. He truly sounded like a tiny little man who was scared to die. I used a stick to gently lift the top jaw of the snake. Still, that snake was determined to finish what he'd started. He wouldn't let go. So, I tried a different tactic and lifted a rock down near the snake's tail. Afraid he'd be crushed, the snake let go and then jumped away as quickly as possible, so excited that he was actually overdoing it--flipping around in the air and bounding into the grass near the solar panel. The snake was obviously a bit pissed off (or maybe I project too much?).

Having some Buddhist inclinations, I always check logs for ants and spiders before adding the wood to the firepit stack. Under some stones, ants and termites are getting ready to fly so I leave them alone.

And, just yesterday morning, I met a chipmunk who lives in the stone wall. He came out and barked (which is more like squeaking) at me while I stood there taking a piss near his rock-wall home. I made up with him by dropping a piece of bread in front of his entranceway. He cautiously darted out, gave one more bark, then took the bread and dragged it into his little hidden kitchen.

Every day, even when it rains, it is beautiful on this land. Noon on a clear day in the summer is a sparkling dance of light and shadows...

Looking from the center of the property toward the tent and driveway.

When the first rays of the morning sun touch the tent wall, the wind suddenly swells up. The leaves sound like rain when it's windy. There is a constant sprinkle of bits of tree bark falling on the tent. The stars are really bright through the holes in the dense tree canopy.

I've made a ritual of going out into the field at sunset and watching the orange light until the very last ray touches my eye--then I look at my watch. It's two minutes sooner each day. Last night it was at 6:20 p.m.

I guess making friends is inevitable once you move to a new town...

About two weeks ago a young guy on his way home from work stopped and offered my a ride. We had a short but good conversation. He didn't mind going a bit out of his way to drop me off at the dirt road. He (Sim) and I are now friends at Facebook. We got together later to visit one of his friends. I'm sure we'll be hanging out in the future too.

A few days later while walking home along Middle Street, I passed a young woman who was looking at the grass, bending down to it, and then standing up and anxiously kind-of pacing back and forth.

As I grew closer, I saw that a baby bird was in the grass. We looked around together for a nest in the tree just above us. She wanted to pick up the bird but was afraid of hurting it. Having some experience with birds in crisis as some blog readers might remember from the Journeys, I offered to give it a try. We didn't want a cat to come along and snatch it if it could be saved.

I cupped it in my hands and reached way up to the nearest branch, placing the bird at the base of it. It didn't want to leave my hands until it realized it was back in the tree, where it climbed out and held onto the bark very tightly. This seemed like the best thing we could do. We hoped the mother would find it.

After we accomplished that task, I walked with her for another hundred feet talking. I told her I'd once been a freshman here at the university (University of Maine at Farmington--UMF) thirty years ago and explained to her a little bit about the influence of a great professor who inspired me to change from majoring in psychology to history.

She said a similar thing had happened to her. She originally came to be a teacher, then fell in love with geology. I told her that was pretty cool since science in general was in great need of women, and also in need of great women. She nodded and said that the first person to map the seafloor was a woman.

At that point we reached her doorway and said goodbye. Very friendly person. Hope to see her again. I seem to hit it off with people who are at least ten years older or younger than I am, but rarely folks my own age--strange. But, it doesn't bother me.

The sky is in motion today, with clouds swooping up over the mountains, heading eastward toward the coast. Patches of blue sky and sun are trading places with these clouds in a teasing dance that might mean rain.

But, if it clears up I will be in that hay field just after 6:00 p.m., facing westward waiting for the last orange ray...