The hardest part was firstly coming into conflict with our landlords, who were standing between us and a safe and secure (rental) home: I spoke strongly and clearly with them about our extreme symptoms - and the fact that two full bottles of gas had emptied themselves in just 6 weeks, with us using only a hob for cooking.
And the woodstove; spewing smoke and soot from all parts, and all up and down its chimney - which runs through the bedroom also. We were on our last legs, myself having even had prophetic dreams of suffocation, and told them that we'd have to vacate the property. And we'd not be using cooker or woodstove again.
So a week ago, we somewhat unceremoniously returned to our "uninhabitable" brick building on our land, and started to prepare it for winter. Rather a few months earlier than we'd anticipated to be doing (and in the middle of actual winter!); we assumed we'd be cosied up in the village until spring!
Almost as soon as landing again here, we were committed to what we'd previously seen as an impossible task - and we're still quite open to escaping if needs must. But the initial feeling was one of enormous relief; of stepping back into reality again: into the correct dimension 🙏
We worked with a very effective homeopathic cure (Carbo Veg.) and took long walks around the woods in and beyond our land, between resting and installing the stove (originally a tent stove for my 5m bell tent).
We had no idea where our track went to, beyond our land, but got some tips from old Antonio who came by with his beautiful dog Johnny, wild foraging. We had a couple of really favoloso chats with him: he seemed to enjoy our company as much as we did his, covering topics like mushroom hunting, water sources, how the landscape used to look here, and what this track used to carry.
After talking with him, we set out ourselves on the first of now several explorative walks, and... WOOOOWW.... came upon epic-huge oak trees, rambling mushroom trails, the most glorious sprawling pathway that seemed truly straight out of a Tolkien scene! It feels like it is all "ours", too, as Antonio explained that no-one really owns or works land here any more. We have the majority of this hillside to ourselves, it would seem!
This quickly helped us forget the predicament that it appeared we were in; seeing all this land to explore, forage and play in, really helps us to feel as if we are meant to be here. And that the solutions and resources will come to us - even the wisdom and the presence that is required of us to survive and thrive here; it too will come to us, via our relationship with the woodlands.
1,000+ year old querce call us to care for them, and holly trees offer up their berries and leaves, the paths ask us to visit regularly, and funghi pop up along them seeming to cheer at our presence. We are in awe and sacred gratitude: absolutely as glad through-and-through as people could be, with our choice in both investing in our land, and in jumping in at the deep end like this, when (neither) we (or the house) are not at all ready!
I've already had at least one major meltdown, after I banged my head violently on a ricocheting branch; something felt inherently positive about bawling my eyes out for a couple of minutes at the pain - all the overwhelm of our confrontation with the landlords, our struggles to warm the house, my fear of us being too exposed when it rains... All the tensions over recent months and even years, culminating in a primal roar of release, in a place so deep in the woods that no-one (but Vincent!) could hear...
And then back to our semi-comfortable homestead! Every day we get stronger and more resilient. Our characters are changing, and our priorties are becoming more aligned with Nature and Season: onwards and upwards we go: next job, cementing the extremely porous and cracks-riddled walls, so we can sleep in a non-windy room!
