Gerri and I both grew up about an hour east of Toronto, Ontario. We didn't really know each other until I decided to move back east from Fort St. John, BC. I planned to move to Hartland, New Brunswick because I had been scouting cheap property to be a hermit on. I found some nice ones there with small houses for under $40000 CDN and they had between 3 and 10 acres. The best part was that McCain's processing plant was nearby and their transport company was always looking for drivers. I would be able to pay off the property in a couple of years and I would be making most of the trips right past where I grew up and would be able to stop in for visits.

I had better back up a bit.

I was severely depressed. I had just left a long-term relationship and was working in the oil and gas service industry. I had nothing left. No desire, no drive, no money, and now no job. Everything took a huge dump on me and left me to wallow in it.

Or so I let myself believe. Sure I hated working for people that would taint my last cup of water for a few bucks, but this lack of a job and severe depression would eventually be my saving grace.

A good friend told me to move home. He could see that I was in bad shape and just told me to get going. I decided he was right and started looking at Hartland.

But I hadn't spent more than a couple of days with my family in years, so I decided to go home for the summer, on my way to NB. I figured I would want some sort of companionship when I got there, so I went on a dating website, to see what the romantic prospects were.

And there she was, my Facebook friend was divorced and I had no idea. So I sent her a message and mentioned that we could maybe go bowling or something. Then I packed my old camper on my old pickup truck and started driving east.

That was April of 2010. I was dragging my heels a bit, but then my sister called and said that she was getting her hair did with a girl I was supposed to ask out on a date. Apparently, she still wanted me to, so I did and we went out.

A lot.

I remember the first time I went to her apartment and saw her giant, blue recycling bin. I was so happy to see that she was really into recycling. Later I asked her where the garbage was, because I had some bloody meat wrap to throw out.

"Over there, under the table." I looked.

"There's only a recycling bin there." I figured she had maybe emptied the garbage and not put it back.

"Yeah, that's the garbage and the recycle. I just put it all in the dumpster out back."

I don't know if I visibly cringed or just inside, but one thing is for sure... Hartland is going to be beautiful.

And it was.

When we went for a road trip down to the east coast the next year.

For the next few years, I would dream about homesteading and she would let me. Sometimes she would even go along with it, but I knew it wasn't her dream as well. I think she looked at it in the sense that we didn't have a retirement plan and were in our forties, so living sustainably might be the only thing we could afford to do. We sure weren't going into a bunch of debt to keep up with the Joneses, so it was a viable option.

I remember inviting her and the girls up to the family cabin when money was a bit tight for a lavish vacation. I was worried that it would be too rustic for her and that she wouldn't love it as much as I did. No hydro, running water, or people, which were all of the things I thought she needed. I was also afraid because she had this mug.

(http://www.ohboytoy.com/annetaintor-ilovenotcampinhg.aspx)

But they loved it. After a few trips up there, I began to think that there might be a chance that we could do the off-grid thing and started to actually research everything I could think of, instead of just dreaming.

I think that's enough for tonight, 4:45 comes early in the morning. I'll try to pick it back up sometime.

Until then, here's a shot of the pond from the cabin.