SUMMER --
I arrived at DR in early August, planning my arrival to coincide with a women's plastering workshop. The weather was hot. Very hot. And extremely humid for this recently-SF-Bay-Area-based creature. "Thanks be to the pond", I thought often. Floating on an innertube, butt deep in the coolish water, arms and legs lazily paddling, made for a welcome respite from the heat. This was also an excellent way to wash off the elbow- and knee-high mud I wore after plastering. Foot-stomping (aka mixing) the plaster, also offered relief: mud is cool!!!
My joys during that end of the summer season included picking and canning and eating lots and lots of fresh tomatoes, watching gorgeous sunsets and ever so many stars, eating in the outdoor kitchen with interesting interns and members and visitors, and listening to the coyotes sing and gargle and screech at night.
My challenges (besides the heat and humidity) included learning to cook a) vegan meals, b) for twenty or more people, c) on a woodstove; and learning a lot about living in community.
AUTUMN --
I went away for a week or so in October, and when I came back I noticed that somehow fall had been approaching all along, and I hadn't quite noticed. The colors of the trees and grasses were changing, the goldenrod was everywhere and glowing, and the pond became not quite so appealing, even for quick dips. I relished my growing awareness that the animals and birds were preparing for winter, too.
My joys during the fall included making apple cider with a hand-cranked wooden cider press, walking on the land through a veritable ocean of goldenrod, sensing the coming cold in the smell of the wind, and enjoying the sense of harvest and community all around me.
My fall-time challenges consisted mainly of trying to appreciate the daily gifts of acorns my camper-mates left under my sleeping bag (thanks, but no thanks, l'il mice) and staying warm enough in my sleeping bag as the nights grew colder.
WINTER --
As inevitably happens, fall turned into winter, the season I had been dreading since my arrival. Winter, one of the main reasons I wasn't certain I could actually make Dancing Rabbit my home. It may sound extreme to some, but I've come to accept that I'm very sensitive to temperature, and that I really don't like cold weather. But then we had an early ice storm, and it left the land breathtakingly beautiful: ice clinging to every piece of grass, icicles hanging from every branch, everything sparkling madly in the sunlight of the morning. And then the snow. We didn't have much there for a whileand then the big storm hit. I've not seen so much snow in more years than I can remember. I'd forgotten how lovely it looks covering the earth, sparkling and shining and white. And never having been in a rural snow location, I had great fun identifying the animal tracks in the snow.
My main challenge this season has been to stay warm. Luckily I moved into Bella Ciao, the small cabin that was created in last summer's women's building workshop, which has a woodstove and mostly plastered walls. Staying warm has involved learning to build a decent woodstove fire and remembering to wear enough layers.
And my joys in this, my most recent season at Dancing Rabbit, have been learning to go within, to be quiet, to witness the cold and see what more I can learn from it
Susan is Dancing Rabbit's newest member. Due to a family crisis she may be away from DR for much of the next six months. You can get in touch with her via email at yumkashi@yahoo.com.
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