finding home

For four months, home has been where I've slept.  Home has been tying Sparrow or Taceo to a tree while the other roved- following their muzzle in pursuit of grass.  Home has been the inside of five sheets of nylon sewn together (the "minibus" tent), somewhere, tucked in to the rocky mountains between Livermore Colorado and Monida Pass Montana.  Home has been Lola, my watch dog, the camp cop, my bundle of really fluffy, hairy always shedding devotedness-love-happy-best-friend-foreverness!  Home has been strangers in which I was the stranger.  And now, I am finding home in one place.  I am over wintering.  I am staying still.  I am moving in.  I am building a nest.  I am still.

home is stillness

My winter camp is in Victor Idaho.  Along Fox Creek in a house that floats, or would if ever a "universal deluge" poured through.  It sits up on pier blocks about two feet and I like to think of it as a boat tied to the dock.  I sleep in a bedroom with windows that look out over the yellowing tips of cottonwood trees.  I think of myself as a shipmate scanning the horizon, scouting for land, whistling salty wind between my teeth prospecting for a private island.  My winter camp is tucking me into another story.  Home.  One that stays in the same place contrary to my imagination.

And so this begins the beginning of overwintering.  I just came back from a very short and busy trip to my old home in Colorado to tidy up any remaining loose ends and get my car so that I can find an "overwintering job".  Whilst I stay still in one place I might as well make some very much needed income.  And as for attempting to update the blog in a chronological manner I've relinquished my efforts.  But I will keep pictures and writings coming all winter long!  Here is the beginning.  It starts at the end.  From the last place I called home while on the road.      

home.  last camp at monida pass.  morning