Slow Decompression

By , March 21, 2017

I returned to the homestead five days ago, but the “decompression period” in which I re-emerse myself in the homestead has taken longer than it has in the past (see Decompression).

This is largely because circumstances have required me to visit town far more frequently than usual.

On Friday, we went to see the world premiere of a locally written and produced musical, Rusty Compass, Dusty Rose. I will not attempt to describe its weird and wonderful, wild ride. Let’s just say that we found it thoroughly engrossing, further disconnecting me from what I consider normal life.

More importantly, the frozen water system drove us to town, as it were (see Dry Cabin). Aly is housesitting for friends this week, and stayed in town Saturday night to have an evening out with friends. When we went in to pick her up, we grabbed showers and filled water jugs before coming back home. Today she moves in for a week or so, further disrupting the homestead’s routine.

Despite this, I’m easing back into real life. And, the life itself is easing at the moment.

The wind switched to the south Sunday night, bringing our temperatures into the high 30s. Half the snow in the compound has melted away, the trees drip hard, and we’re getting a bit of rain. It could still take days for our water line to thaw, but at the moment, the process has started. We have reason to hope.

Saturday evening, as the sun lowered on the snow covered Coast Range peaks, a pod of killer whales passed the homestead in a tight formation, their dorsal fins piercing the ocean surface like swords raised in salute. The next day the wind calmed to utter stillness. Our local Vernal Equinox occurred on the 17th, so we now have more daylight than darkness each day. We’re beginning to plan the garden, I’ve chosen a few trees to fell to replenish the late drain on that resource. I’m adapting to the improvements in the cabin Michelle made in my absence. The cold I caught from Mom during the visit has begun to fade.

Decompression should be a slow process, to prevent getting the bends. My slow decompression from a visit to the Outside seems to be happening just fast enough to keep me healthy.

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