I write this as the Pacific rain continues to fall lightly over the giant redwoods. We moved to this rain forest (over 92″s a year in 4 months!!!) back in September. Then the temperature was in the low 100s, the ground parched and dusty. I would have never guessed it would be so wet and so cold on the north side of the mountain here. I’ve never lived on a mountain and I’m learning valuable lessons as time goes on. Like how the sun doesn’t shine here (when it is not raining) till about 10am and then it disappears behind the mountains again at 3:30. Our rental house is clear of trees to about a 1/4 mile radius so we are not shaded so that we may capture every bit of sun.
Below the house, you can hear the rush of the creek as it makes it’s way over boulders winding down to meet the Russian River. Along the way it will run into salmon making their way upstream from the Pacific Ocean to lay their eggs. I once only dreamed of living in such a magical place where the great grandfather trees whisper secrets from 100s of years ago. It must be a dream, for the mist creeps over the mountain range as if it were a creature of the forest and along its way tickles the tops of the great redwoods leaving drops dew to fall to the fern laden forest floor below.
Here we have made a home and chicks call out from the incubators behind me as I type this. All night long they have been struggling to enter this strange new world. Soon they will join their parents up the hill in the chicken coops. Everyday, I go first thing in the morning and let the chickens out to roam the 30 acres we live on. Most of the time they stick close to the safety of the coop, should a bobcat or hawk venture too near. Periodically, we do lose one, but the forest is like a great goddess that sometimes requires an occasional sacrifice to the spirits of her realm. It is part of living here and there seems to be a rhythm to it all. I don’t always hear that faint pulse because I’m to busy living the life of a human, but occasionally I remember that I am a part of all this wonder and my heart sings.
I gather spinach, cabbage, dandelion, chard and beets from our garden for lunch. It is my duty to grow and nurture the plants that sustain us and Theo’s job to prepare them in wonderful creative dishes! I think I have the easier job for I love communing with all this nature as my hands dig deep into the rich soil. Soil I have built from chicken manure and seaweed from the coast. The chickens pay into this banquet and in return I share the bounty with them. I’m so amazed how our new Java chicks now 6 weeks old tear into their green goodies. Java’s are the oldest chicken breed in America. They lost their appeal as birds breed from their stock took over the market and by the 1980s only 350 survived. They are enjoying a comeback due to the fact that they are the ultimate homestead bird. They are quite capable of taking care of themselves and need little extra food. They also make a nice meat bird and lay brown eggs to boot! We have one of the only flocks on the entire West Coast and I hope to share them with friends soon ensuring their survival.
It is here in this place we have settled for a bit and I don’t know for how long. We know we are drawn to the people and places in Mendocino Country further up the coast, but for now we breathe in the rich air that surrounds us and rejoice in it’s bounty.
Masada