At first I was afraid, I was petrified: Survival and joy in an off-grid cabin (Datil, NM)

Sometime recently, I newly knew that life could be cozy and comfortable, and not just survival. That's when I started loading Spud up with cozy and comfortable things I had found along the way. It also changed the way I looked at what I already had. 

You know how, when you move into a new place, you don't feel at-home until you do "that thing"? We all have that thing, and sometimes we just stumble upon it by accidentally doing it, and then feeling comfortable. I learned a while ago that books are that thing for me.

Before: that naked hearth made me cold just looking at it.

After: that thing

Of course, even before there's that thing, there's THAT thing. The first thing I realized experientially was that I needed a bed. Now, my bed has a curtain-friend. Good for afternoon naps without sun in my eyes, and fully-lit nights when the moon is an invader.

Uncovered windows at night undo me. Nevermind that anyone standing on my deck and looking in would need to have brought provisions, a bedroll, night-vision glasses, a strong stomach, and a GPS. Now they can just stay home, thanks to curtains.

I was going to wait until I had cleaned up, but we only have so many years.

It got cold here a few nights ago. Thank goodness that's over!

My head.

Flickers are beautiful, inquisitive, and relentless. I call this one "Opportunity," because he just keeps knocking.

There was a Hallowe'en festival in town, and Betty and I attended. 

Amigita being as scary as she ever gets. She's a service dog.

Somehow I walked out the door and up a mountain. I know, it confused me, too. Just when I thought I knew who I was.

Spud Ranch

Horse Mountain? When the locals argue, I simply refuse to learn until they come to consensus. 

When a half is really a quarter, and vice versa.

I got out my old Magellan GPS, and discovered that the cabin is right at 7800'; I had previously gotten the notion it was 7500', but no. This sparked some friendly competition between myself and everyone else in the neighborhood, now that we all know I'm above them. Mostly they've been good sports, even with my attitude of altitude.

Saguaro you from?

The saguaro has bad days, too.  Don't stoop to his level.

I do things here that I think would look normal in the desert.   They wouldn't really look normal in the desert, so much as no one would see them, and I'd like that.  Tonight, I walked out the door with a dishpan full of rinse water, headed directly for the "saguaro," and dumped it.  I'm not sure that'd be doing a saguaro any favors - I should ask a cactologist.   And, yoga.  I don't do yoga, but surely I will?  In my pajamas.  This is the way I'd like to be not seen in the desert.

We ran into someone we know in the ShurSave.  He asked if we had moved back, or if we were just visiting.  Awkward.  Luckily, he was wearing mismatched shorts and shirt, or I would have felt ridiculous.

We're beginning to "winterize" the Duck.  The "winter" is "real" and doesn't need "inappropriate quotation marks," but our "winterizing" is not the usual RV type, where toxic pink fluid is poured into fresh water pipes to prevent freezing.  People, this is what vodka is for.  We hope, expect, intend to winter, for as long as we're here, in the motorhome.

I wanted a heat-reflective mattress pad/blanket.  Remember?  Well, ask, and ye shall be told where to go pay for it:  here.   I got a 10 yard roll this week, and I'm this close to cutting a piece big enough to fit between the sheet and comforter of our Travasak winter side.  I also plan to make a curtain liner.  Tell me what you think:  reflective surface on both sides (this requires sewing;  let this factor weigh heavily in your advice), or single-sided that we take off and flip depending on which side of the windows we need heat to stay [on].

I'd like to end on an uplifting note.  Enjoy, and let your spirits soar: