Schierly Living

Thank you all for the emails, calls, texts, and ideas. Good people, with good thoughts. For now, however, it seems the board is okay with the idea of a man growing his own food. Our management company rejected my request directly, and seemingly cannot.

I need to be respectful of my neighbors, plan for contingencies (e.g. fencing, mesh, etc. if there might be too much reflection) but we are moving forward with a site visit at the end of the week with no need to “live here for a year first” to test my abilities as initially suggested by said management company. It is a tough place to be. I’ve met two now that tried, and could not stay. I’ve met many that suggest staying put is the best course of action.

Feeding myself seemed appealing to the humans, once past the management company. This is a great sign to move forward. A site visit with photographs is planned and I will generate contingency plans, but it’s not over yet!

My first ever experience with an HOA (I should have known better) and I’ve been denied erecting a green house to feed myself.

I bought a forty acre spread, zoned AGRICULTURAL, and it has a domestic well, meaning I can water up to an acre of crops, but I cannot erect a small (less than 320 square foot) building simply to feed myself.

I was told the park aesthetics are more important than my survival.

I was told to wait a year and see if I could spend a winter here FIRST, before feeding myself for the winter I wanted to spend here.

I am dismayed. I cannot build a future here if denied the right to grow my own food.

What world is this?

Denying a man the right to grow his own food on his own lot, agriculturally zoned and with a domestic well.

I’ve met five new sets of folks this week, all of whom call this park home for at least part of the year. We are, thus far, a diversified and varied bunch of people, but have one amazing thing in common for such a unique place: we all want to be here. There is a general sense of well-being emanating from all, as a result. I am enjoying the experience more than expected.

The view during the morning coffee break on a deck now seemingly sans bears.

Another cord is cut, stacked, but not all split – the wall of over-nighters is also continuing to grow.

1. Pick up wood and load trailer.
2. Unload trailer.
3. Pick up wood, cut it and pile it.
4. Pick up pieces, split them.
5. Pick up split pieces and put them in the trailer.
6. Unload trailer into wood pile.
7. Move wood into house to burn
8. Burn wood.
9. Remove ashes.

Nothing to it.

Adaptation is key to being here. Adapting to the pace, the quiet, the stillness, the wildlife, the alone-ness (not of spirit, distance). The body has been conditioning since the arrival, as too the mind, but the remoteness is finally settling in. There is much to embrace, and much to readily comprehend to survive.

Visited Spines in Alamosa for the library sale and returned with a box full of books (sixty!) to add to the winter collection. Great finds, known and unknown, and a myriad of topics to explore. The new pressure canner arrived and I soon experiment with some organic squash. The wood piles continue to grow, as does this silly new beard. As I condition, the need for conditioner grows or this fuzzy white monster will scratch me alive.

Happy foliage Season!

My new bear friend has been visiting repeatedly, both my home and my neighbor Tom’s. He is hungry.

The grill has been cleaned, and is no longer in use. The PDBs also suspended for now, rodent proofing takes different forms now, at least until this persistent little fellow decides to hibernate.

Moon Bug has completed its break in period, quite easily and enjoyably. The dog loves to ride and will go with me anywhere, including a routine mail run. Decided to explore Floweree Drive on the ride home – what a lovely new piece of land I’d not yet seen.

Life is good.

Yesterday was a valuable lesson in looking around my environment before leaving the home. I’ve been shown footage of mountain lions and bears and neighboring lots, but opening the storm door yesterday to discover only said door’s glass as a barrier between me and a brown bear a mere three feet away? A bit unnerving to say the least.

He was not scared of me at all, merely curious and attempted to follow me into the house as I closed first the storm door and then the heavy main door. Yelling at him had not phased him in the least. Still undeterred, this fellow strolled around my wood pile, onto the covered deck and peered in the south facing bay window, continuing to circumnavigate the house.

He headed to the south deck, peering in the windows until he smelled the grill, for which he bee-lined. I grabbed some pots and pans and started banging, which he did not like and finally left. My pan lid is dented, but at least he left.

Next time? Look before you leave!