A Living Magazine - Tap Root: Days 113 to 126 - New Appreciations

I finally got around to ordering my heater, hose and filter. I have the tank already. I procrastinated on it, because I was waiting for a bit more money. But if anything is worth going a bit in debt for it is heat. I think it will last about a month per 20 pound tank. I will use it very sparingly.

Most of the daytimes I am in town, and for most of the night I don't need room heat. My bed is warm enough. I'll be shooting for about 3 hours of heat per day through the winter. So far I have had weeks of sub-freezing days and nights, a few ice pellets, some cold rain and very fierce winds. I have survived with no major issues with no heat at all. I guess it could be done all winter, but my god, if there is any other way to have a bit of heat, I need to find it! I'm not an animal. Heat has never been my major problem. It is the wind itself that has taken over the role of nemesis (it used to be rain).

The rain doesn't bother me anymore. In fact, I've learned to harvest, store and use it. On this mountain, I could easily harvest 100 gallons per week on average (assuming I had the storage capacity to hold that amount). I should qualify this to say that the cold of a rainy day is worse than the cold of a snowy day. Any moisture in the air is an unwelcome heat-sink. 

Let's see, what else?

Oh, my air mattress failed. Third one! They are cheap at Walmart (about $8). I can see why. The chambers on the inside tear loose and make huge bulging pockets that essentially roll you out of bed. I did a little research. Walmart knows about the issue and has a no-cash back return policy on the damn things. Intex is the brand. And the sad thing is, I will buy another as soon as I can get to Walmart, because they are so cheap. I could buy one a month if I had to. A class action suit was even filed against Walmart and the manufacturer (though it was dismissed), because some older woman had the popping of the inner ribs and was stuck on the floor for hours.

The shitty thing - besides never knowing when the innards of my bed are going to toss me on to the floor - is that a useless air cushion is a big ole piece of rubber waste to have kicking around! In a city I could just toss them in some recycling bin. But, yes, I have come up with another brilliant idea! As these cushions fail I am going to use them to line the floor of the inside of my blue tarp shell. The plastic/rubber of the cushion is strong as shit. I already laid my last faulty cushion in the shower area. It sealed the floor nicely. I have a real issue with tracking dirt into the tent and having something on the floor should help with that.

As some readers may remember in the first few Tap Roots posts of this living magazine, I was in a very psychologically difficult place. I had been able to buy this land--a real dream come true, yet I couldn't appreciate what I had. I felt overwhelmed with some initial nay-saying from former supporters, the great disappointment with not being able to build my cabin before winter due to code issues, and other personal family things. I also felt like a foreigner in this neighborhood. This stuff combined to leave a bitter sweet taste in my mouth whenever I walked onto or out of the property. I felt unwanted (but for no reason). It was just my shit...shit that I deal with.

Two things have changed all that for me now. First, I have gotten to know my neighbors. As far as I can tell they are outstanding folks. For example, I met the neighbor across from the entrance of my dirt road. He is a professor at the University of Maine at Farmington (UMF). 

But more prominently, I have gotten to know a couple named Susan and Jim who live about a mile away; having had lunch with them at their house a couple times.

Also, I have mentioned Simeon, the first guy I met in town, who offered to give me a ride, months ago. I hadn't seen him for a while and was a bit worried, but, in fact, he just gave me another ride last week and gifted me a lobster!

I cooked up the lobster, some chicken and steak, along with stuffing and mashed potato.

I ate the lobster and that left the rest of the food to be stored and used, 

as I was to be stuck on the land through the two days of rain to come.

The day before the unexpected lobster I was picked up right before the big hill on Weeks Mills by another neighbor I had not yet met, Barry. He lives just up the hill past my dirt road. He said he'd seen me walking many times and heard that I'd bought the inner lot on Staples Road. Well, it turns out that he himself owns a stretch of that road as well, so he is a fellow right of way owner!

All of these meetings and growing relationships have that vague taste of being set up beforehand by unseen forces. I am especially keen and sensitive to this phenomenon now. For such long stretches, the Spark seems to be in hibernation. If these periods last long enough, I begin to question whether the Spark is even interested in what I'm doing. When I play the conventionality game, the Spark submerges. But, when I am struggling on one of these "crazy" projects (long distance walking, rough camping, or now primitive homesteading), the Spark seems to wake up, yawn and ask, "What can we do today!" Though, I know it is winking or crossing its figurative fingers, because it already has everything well planned out. This is how I know that all of our Sparks are constantly working to bring us together, if that is the plan...if that is our Will.

Still, it can't seem to happen as well when people are stuck in habits that make them feel comfortable, while locking them away from new experiences. Those are the people who call me crazy. But I know better what I am. I was once like them and I can understand why there is resistance against those who choose alternate routes for their lives. However, with that knowledge being refreshed in my mind constantly, due to my own circumstances--an environment initiated by my own will, I know more clearly what sanity truly is.

I mentioned that there were two things that have changed my attitude. The first was meeting my neighbors and getting to know them. The second came once I was able to let go of the idea that I had to have a cabin to get through the winter. I mentioned this a bit earlier in another blog post. Somehow I came to the realization that I am in no rush. I need to simply get through the winter, and I will then have 6-7 months to build and further develop my plan. 

Granted, this winter's life of being cold, dealing with the elements and accepting discomfort, sucks. Don't get me wrong! And, frankly I would never do this if it weren't my own land. Nevertheless, if I can survive through to spring, at the very least, I will have proved to myself that I truly own where I am.

So, becoming part of the neighborhood and also feeling better about the slower pace of this project has brought me a more serene state of mind.

I still have lofty ambitions. I'd mentioned the future edible yard and gardens, etc., but my dearest plans have to do with proving that - if given a leg up - a formerly homeless man can still make a life for himself. So, it isn't only about developing the property to be ideal in wasteless, non-fossil fuel powered, self-sufficiency. It is also about offering this kind of lifestyle to folks who have no possessions or housing, but a similar ambition. I believe that so-called entitlement programs (SNAP and TANF, for example) could be eliminated for families if they were instead given a one time subsidy to buy a small piece of property, predeveloped to be as completely self sustaining as possible--the way my property will eventually be. First, again, I must do it and prove that it can work.

Every day that I face my own situation in its undeveloped state, I use challenges and circumstances that arise as learning tools. If I can make it through the winter in my very primitive surrounding, how much easier would it be for someone who moves into a cabin, has a full rainwater harvesting system, renewable power, clean heat in the winter, and an organic garden to supplement food? It would not just appeal to those who are used to going without these things, but also to those who can understand how simplifying and downsizing could give them more resources--enough to pursue creative or other work, instead of jobs they don't enjoy. There is a lot to all of this. And, I plan to elaborate more substantively upon it as we move into the new year.

Since building my "chrysalis" (the blue tarp outer shell), I have seen where weaknesses occur, as the unusually high winds pull pieces apart. I have found that nothing beats zip ties as a way to repair it. All around the inside, basic accommodations are developing...

The front door area. This is where the wires from the solar panel (and eventually

the propane hose for the heater) come in, and also faces the strongest wind, being the northwest side.

This opposite leeward (southeast) side is the rear entrance, "bathroom" and shower

area are found. The water barrel and drain for the shower runs under the outer tarp to

a low area, shown in the following photo...

A look back at the barrel. It is mostly frozen at this point. I hope to insulate it and

run a warm air vent from the tent to the insulated barrel.

I guess this would be considered the porch area. It is left open for sitting on days

when the temperature isn't too cold.

A look back at the shower area.

This gives a much better idea about how much smaller the inner tent is, having been

partially collapsed so that I wouldn't have to heat as much.

After being stuck inside for the first rainy day, I took advantage of a drier few hours the next day to harvest some different grades of birch bark (what I use to light the fire pit)...

Clockwise from the bucket--filled with very thin paper-like bark, comes the moderately thin pieces,

then very rough, thick bark, and finally, what I call "scrolls"--pieces good for interweaving between

larger pieces of wood. The nice thing about birch bark is that even wet, it will easily catch...

I cooked some dogs that had been frozen, to store with the other food.

I was able to melt a gallon of water within this small tote, by having it near the fire, and transferred

it to a gallon container that I could keep in the tent, where temps are

usually enough above freezing to keep it liquid.

It is now the end of November. I have slept on this land every day for the last 4 months. I truly know every inch of these three acres. When I walk around the trees, I mostly live my fantasy of the future, where a small cabin sits among the gardens, trained fruit trees and bushes, pathways and... most importantly... a place for peace of mind. It may be in the future, but the future - for once in my life - seems more reliable than it has ever been before. Appreciating what I have is part of my personal lesson. Looking more optimistically at what will eventually arrive has made the present much more satisfying than I have yet known.

A Living Magazine - Tap Root: Days 109 to 112 - And Lo, When Cold is Descending...Comes a Tale

I'm writing this from 20 degree tent, as the wind pummels my tarp, tearing corners lose. Every now and then I have to venture out into the 5 degree tempest to tack the tarps back onto their supports. But something about all of this is keeping my spirits up, as well as keeping me alive.

You have not been awake until you absolutely must survive without heat in subfreezing temperatures. And, you have never slept as well as you do by crawling from that situation into a warm sleeping bag. I am finding this experience is just what I need to feel like I am still alive. I don't mean that in a melodramatic way--more as a simple and pragmatic thing.

Twice I was almost taken out of this world. My life, as I demand the conceit, is beginning to resemble  a symphony; something that backs up an opera. But if it is to include an opera, perhaps the storyline in this last movement still depends upon the two preceding Acts? You who have stuck with me for all of this time are the co-actors, so it is okay fit yourselves into the process. It is likely that you will not even remember reading this post.

Nevertheless, I plan to deliver a few posts throughout this coming winter which should entertain you very much, while I use them to compile my first book. I may edit them after publishing as I edit the book, but it should be interesting. I now have a way to be online at my property (such as it is). And don't I have the ultimate ghost story (maybe the wrong term?) to share!

You might as well come with me back through the portal between the worlds. This is as real as I can make it. Why do I long so dearly to wear my soul on the outside? How can I show it to you? These are the last chapters and I have come full circle. I know exactly why I'm here after all the travel across the country. Yes, it is to finally live my dream of developing something from nothing. But, because of the rare way that things have worked out, it is also to untie the most complicated knot that has ever been devised...at least in my life. It has fastened itself to a shackle that I unwittingly tied around my own ankle. And so, Iwallk with the weight of all of the self that I have lost in that extra labor, dragging it behind me like a dead costume--like a dead identity. But I am not dead.

I know this sounds irritatingly enigmatic. Sorry about that. The temperature is dropping figuratively and physically and I need to get into bed. I just wanted to catch up a bit so that I can begin the process of telling my tale.

I will also do regular property update posts as always. 

* * *

Just because I am excited to freeze my ass of in some delusional quest of deliverance, does not mean that donations and contributions aren't joyfully accepted. If you like following this crazy shit, please click the PayPal donate button to send a few bucks my way. At this point I am looking for a few extra bucks to cover buying a heater. Ha! 

Thank you for reading and sharing these posts. Please join the Facebook Journeys group (click the Faceboom icon near the bottom of this page).

A Living Magazine - Tap Root: Days 91 to 108 - Winterizing with a Tarp Chrysalis

In the last few weeks I have been setting up and securing an outer tarp layer (see the blue sections below). At first all I could make was a roof, but it gave a good test of what something like this can handle--having made it through a week of rain and then the freak wind storm. So, for the first two weeks this was the structure that remained above the tent. You can think of this as a "before" structure...

West side.

South side.

East side.

North side.

Then, just two days ago, my buddy Jason came up to visit. He lives in Greene and has helped me do some errands in the past. He took me to Walmart where I bought enough tarps to finish surrounding the tent.

Knowing that it is not as important to retain heat as it is to avoid cold airflow and preventing snow accumulation around the tent, I took the next days to construct what I call a "chrysalis." Every creature who must get through the winter makes a shelter of some kind in order to survive. In moving the many stone I have on this property I have found hundreds of moth cocoons. Surely I could do the same thing?

First I collapsed the south side of the tent, since I don't use it anyway, and to reduce the amount of space I would need to heat. I also half-reduced the north side (which I use to sleep in) to become the exact width of my bed. 

So here is my chrysalis, protecting the fragile tent inside, and the even more fragile human who will reside in the tent. The following could be considered "after" shots...

Amazing how few items it took.

West side.

South side.

East side.

North side.

Close ups of how stones hold down the base.

Now a look inside, between the outer tarp and the tent...

Space left by collapsing the tent's south section.

West entranceway.

East entranceway, sowing the greatly shortened length of the tent.

Living area is the tall section, with a small section for sleeping.

Rain shoot for filling the barrel and other containers.

Large space for storage.

Looking west.

Large space.

Looking east.

Completely covered tent as seen from the driveway.

I'm feeling especially satisfied with this design. Last night it rained hard and the wind blew pretty ferociously. Everything remained where it was supposed to be. The tent was nearly dry, even around it, which was a real change. I still have to make a door for the front and patch a bunch of oddly shaped holes, but I am now way ahead of the game.

With Jason's help I was able to buy a propane tank and will now purchase a carbon monoxide-free propane heating element. I also bought a warm weather sleeping bag, which fits inside a large comforter I already had and chemical body heating pads (which work incredibly well, by the way, put right under the sleeping bag by my feet).

Aside from a final trip to buy insulating foam board, I am pretty much set for the winter. Walking in and out of the property will still be a challenge when it finally snows. For sure, a snow shovel must be obtained in the next couple of weeks.

My money lasted just long enough to outfit this tent and winterize So, let me put out the call for contributions from readers who are enjoying this project and are ready to see what happens over the next five months. If you consider yourself to be one of these people, please click the PayPal donate button at the top of the blog page, choose what amount feel right to you and send a small gift if you can.

 Thank you once again for reading, sharing and caring!

A Living Magazine - Tap Root: Days 86 to 90 - Maple Arches, Edible Paths, and the Art of the Land

In this post I want to explain the philosophy I have adopted for artfully combining the natural outlay of the land with my human needs for development.

Sometime, a couple months ago, I began to slowly build up a series of pathways, edging them with light fencing--not necessarily strong enough to hold the weight of an adult, but rigid enough to stand alone and support the future training of other plants.

I was combining the construction of this pathway fencing (mostly made out of trees and branches I had been clearing from the deeper woods) with live trees to which the fencing would be attached. I did this by following the naturally well-spaced paths that the land had already created in the hundred years since this place had once been a farmer's field. 

In other words, upon carefully observing the layout of the property, I saw that hundreds of small-diameter trees were spread rather evenly in the half acre or so that I'd chosen as my major living area. These trees would often have a line of sight space that ran neatly through the woods. So, I would rake a path between these trees on the naturally occurring paths, then cut down the other dead or dying trees surrounding them to use as rails and posts for my fencing.

I have a preponderance of maples in this size range. One afternoon as I was working on the paths and fencing I decided to pull two young maples toward each other, then stitched them by their own branches together to form an arch over the pathway. It really looked cool. I liked how they were still alive (didn't need to kill them to create the arch). That meant that in the years to come, they would grow together, with new branches reaching straight up again, growing toward the sky, but leaving the space under the arch for the pathway to run through.

With this combination of maple arches (some small elms were included too--for example, twisting a maple together with an elm to form one system), a system of living plants were able to be utilized along with the fencing.

I spend a great deal of time after working all day by my fire each night, having a beer and just visually meditating on the possibilities that were arising out of each day's new creative embellishment. And on one particularly beautiful night, as I watched the orange flames casting light on my pathways, I saw a clear vision of how to further strengthen this concept of mixing the artful development of the land with ideas I've had for years about making an edible property.

The vision was this...

I will slowly accumulate young fruit trees and bushes. These will be planted near the post ends of the fencing, and then trained by interweaving their branches, to follow the edges of the paths. Apple, pear and plum trees, and Concord grape vines, will strengthen the fencing and produce fruit each year all along the many paths running around the land, intertwining with sugar maple arches. As they all expand together, cuttings will be taken and grafted, then applied to further stretches of pathways.

Slender stone-edged planters will line the edges of these paths. These planters will contain small fruit bushes, including raspberries, high bush blueberries, and strawberries. In this way, each linear foot path (for as far a length as possible) will be a living system packed from ground to sky with berries, apples, stone fruit, and sugar maples. Among these mingled food producing plants will be an outward layering gradient medicinal plants and herbs. 

In this way, sea rose bushes (imported from the coast--with their usable flowers, foliage, and hips), heavenly blue morning glory vines (with their entheogenic seeds and beautiful flowers) will give way, outside the fencing, to pockets and beds of bread seed poppies, oregano, mint, salvias, cilantro, thyme, parsley, cannabis, etc. Thin paths will interconnect and border these beds leading to the brighter pockets of the property. These pockets located in naturally indents of the land, will contain vegetables that I like and will be grown and harvested throughout the summer and fall (specifically, tomatoes, potatoes, carrots, radishes, cucumbers, lettuce and spinach). To be clear, these vegetable beds will not organize the plants in typically squared off rows. Individual species will be split up and spread out, with several species in each sunny pocket.

I've noticed that the surface of the pathways becomes muddy when it rains, so I'd like to try to plant grass on them. The idea being the opposite of sprawling waste-of-space grass lawns with cut out dirt paths. Instead, my land would have woodsy, garden bed filled areas, connected by these grass paths, lined in stone, with their fruit bushes and trained fruit trees.

With careful planning, within five years I suspect that one of the three acres I own will be a densely packed explosion of useful and beautiful plants all intertwined together, supporting each other, running through the natural ins and outs, ups and downs, rock ledges, stone walls that existed when I first arrived; with maples syrup in the early spring, thousands of flowers in the late spring, usable salad vegetables, medicinal and edible herbs throughout the summer, harvestable, preservable items in the fall, and a tight mass of woody stalks able to withstand the harshness of Maine's brutal winters and ready to come alive again each new spring.

Honor the land. Work with it artistically, cooperating with it to make a new kind of practical and beautifying art... This is my dream. 

I have already published some pictures of the fencing and pathways, but I thought you might enjoy the maple arches with their trained branches, as they displayed their beautiful fall colors around the yard...

Thanks very much for reading and sharing these posts! I am always struggling for the funds to maintain this project. Although I have been getting some part time work, I will be needing medication, and am about to spend the rest of my saving on winterization. Any funds you might be able to send my way through the PayPal donate button would be enormously helpful and well appreciated.