Two years ago, I decided to move to Oregon in search of adventure and solitude. I got a good dose of adventure, but the excitement of a new town, new people, and craft beer distracted me from the latter--and left me feeling rather unfulfilled (often quite unhappy) at times.

Here's to taking a step in the right direction. Yesterday I moved to a mixed use organic farm on ten acres, 15 miles outside of town. My space is tiny and spread out through multiple buildings. I will spend the next 6 months cooking on a hot plate, with water drawn 70 yards away. I will pull weeds and shovel horse shit in exchange for rent, and commute over unplowed, winding roads to my pre-dawn work in town. It's a far cry from luxurious.

But it's romantic in the purest literary sense. Quiet solace; connection to the earth; dirty, physical labor; minimalism in belongings; uncompromising natural beauty; and a chance to really get to know myself on a deeper level.

Chop wood, carry water.

Ohio

Been thinking about you, that's all.

Hitchin and job huntin

Last week Ryan and I hitched a ride down to the Oregon Badlands, where we hiked in a few miles, set up camp, and spent the rest of the day climbing at Flatiron Rock. Beautiful country. Really something entirely new to me.

Interviewed at Whole Foods yesterday. Went well. And tomorrow I'm catchin an early bus up to Prineville to apply for a wildland firefighting gig.

Oh yeah, so I wore my Snowville "Grass Grazed Revolution" t-shirt to the coffeehouse this morning, and a guy commented on it. Struck up a conversation about raw milk and he said he's part of a locavore coop type place getting off the ground. Could be fun!