The Languid Hum of Midsummer (& a Daily Life Vlog!)
As the haze of summer hums on, casting a dry spell over the land, stretching out an endless blue blanket over the sky, with not a cloud in sight, day in and day out... we've found that taking to the cold crystal clear mountain lakes is *the* elixir.
Seasonality is one of the many beauties woven into nature, so of course I cherish all seasons for the uniqueness each one brings and how they all call a different part of our being to the forefront, but if there's a season I feel I have to endure - it's summer.
I thrive in the cool, the cold, the overcast, the thunder and rain, snow storms, long dark evenings with candelight, fires going. Mist-ery.
Summer feels like the busiest, most extroverted season.
If summer were one of my friends, she'd be the one I had to save up my energy for, the one I mostly listened to, smiling and nodding, knowing I probably wouldn't get a word in edgewise, but loved her despite, because of her big joyous heart.
Summer calls us into rampant doing - summer is the time of work.
There is food to grow, food to store (for animal and human alike), projects to complete before the cold dark winter arrives, burgeoning wild plants to gather for nutrition and medicine to see us through the rest of the year.
Summer is energy and forward movement, necessary to life.
But I have to think I'm not alone in this daytime recoil, this hiding away I tend to do from the hours of about 10AM until around 6PM. What I've noticed is that I don't see a single wild animal, aside from birds, during those hours either. We have all tucked away in the shadows somewhere, waiting until dawn and dusk to reemerge.
Once the sun has sunk over the ridge, I step outside to marvel at the golden pink alpenglow cloaking the mountains on the horizon and the aroma of roasting pine that fills the air, taking time now to read, to sew or knit, to check on the vegetables and plants. As I go quietly about my simple business, deer begin to dot the fields and meadows and forest edges all around. Usually, I can count atleast ten on any given evening. They've gotten used to us here, and sometimes the only sound you hear during this sacred time of evening is the poignant tugging of plants between their wild rows of teeth.
Needless to say, summer is the season I tend to feel the least inspired. Sluggish, both physically and spiritually it seems. More effort is needed to feel motivated to create, and creating is something I have to do for contentment, so it's a double-edged sword if I don't watch it.
Last weekend, I decided to capture some footage - footage of so-called mundane daily life: cooking, sewing, going to the woods, driving... and I ended up making a vlog (a video blog) with a spin on it. Sort of an ode to the commonplace, the mundane. And I feel like the poetry of it all (and maybe no one will sense that poetry other than me - that's possible) are the sound textures.
The first time I remember being captivated by sound (aside from explicit waves like music) is when I was about 15 years old and was immersed in an online roleplaying game called Everquest. I loved the sound of my character's feet hitting the landscape as I roamed from quest to quest, fighting off orcs and marauders into the early hours of the morning.
Over the years I've noticed how easily captivated I can become by very subtle sounds that probably go unnoticed or disappear into the background hum of daily life. Even my fingertips striking the keys right now is oddly satisfying. Fire crackling. Random kitchen sounds. A hand moving over fabric. The crinkling of paper. The low drone of voices on the distant lake shore as I float far away on my raft. Earrings swaying. Hair being brushed. Water moving... but footsteps above everything. I love listening to footsteps, and maybe that's one reason I've always loved to walk on unpaved trails? The spellbinding crunch of earth underfoot...
Anyway - I decided to put together a vlog of sorts, just some footage I captured over the weekend, with a focus on the quiet, the subtle. Maybe some of you will find it as relaxing as I do? Let me know what you think. Do you find poetry in the finespun minutiae of daily existence?
This is a space to share glimpses into daily life here in the Washington wilderness - full of nesting & nomading, & forging deeper relationships to self, to old ways, & to the natural world.
I write about:
health & wellness
wild food foraging
DIY & craft projects
making a living online from home (or anywhere)
my own recipes from scratch
and much more
My hope is that you will find some nugget of inspiration here.
Thank you so much for stopping in & please come back often. The kettle's always on...
- Aug 10, 2018 A 2018 Gift Guide For Rugged (Yet Refined) Outdoorsmen Aug 10, 2018
- Aug 7, 2018 The Bookshelf - Recommended Reading & What I'm Currently Reading Aug 7, 2018
- Aug 4, 2018 The Best Natural Deodorant (That You, Um...Drink) Aug 4, 2018
- Jul 31, 2018 The Languid Hum of Midsummer (& a Daily Life Vlog!) Jul 31, 2018
- Jul 18, 2018 Should-less Sundays (and My Wild Huckleberry & Maple Scone Recipe!) Jul 18, 2018
- Jul 11, 2018 Following The Berries Jul 11, 2018
- Jul 7, 2018 Exploring The Olympic Peninsula, A Sweeping Sensory Experience Jul 7, 2018
- Jun 26, 2018 Homemade Medicine: The Easiest Way To Grow Your Own Broccoli Sprouts In A Bag (For Depression, Brain Health, Cancer Prevention, Anti-Aging, & More) Jun 26, 2018
- Jun 13, 2018 Status Update On Our Homestead Journey: Current Setup as of June 2018 Jun 13, 2018
- Jun 6, 2018 Our 6 Favorite Off-Grid & Wilderness Living Documentaries Jun 6, 2018
- May 9, 2018 Finally! We're Moving To The Wilderness! May 9, 2018
- Apr 26, 2018 How To Make A Full-Time Income From Your Off-Grid Homestead: A Comprehensive List of Ideas Apr 26, 2018
- Apr 21, 2018 Water Solutions For Off-Grid Raw Land Living In The Inland Northwest Apr 21, 2018
- Apr 13, 2018 A Garden In The Woods Apr 13, 2018
- Apr 4, 2018 The Most Productive Way To Grow Vegetables In Any Climate Apr 4, 2018
- Mar 31, 2018 First Steps: What We're Doing NOW to Create an Off-Grid Homestead in the Wilderness Mar 31, 2018