Trippinggggggg.

I went on a trip.

I hadn’t left Wyoming in four years.

I was apprehensive, wondering how I’d handle the hustle & bustle.

For these are my roads now:

These are my stoplights:

This is the only time I sit for any extended period:

And this is what I see:

Can you see it?

If I can spot this awesome little guy ~ less than 3 inches long and in full camo ~ from atop my moving horse, what would the bright signs and frenetic movement of the city do to my brain???

More later.

Right now I’m soaking up my kind of roads, my kind of stoplights, my Farmily, and all that is hidden.

Proficient Motorcycling

I just watched a guy pull a majorly dumb maneuver on his motorcycle. One that probably would have ruined his day, his bike, and his bod if he’d been unlucky enough to pull it in front of someone less motorcycley-inclined as I. I always watch out for riders, natch.

But this guy would have caused a major crash, all in the name of looking “cool” or “bad to the bone,” if the oncoming driver had been distracted, slow with reflexes, or speeding. (All of which are very common among drivers.) Dummy could’ve lost his life.

And so I feel compelled to share THE BEST book on riding in existence: Proficient Motorcycling. I read this cover-to-cover before my cross-country departure and I suggest anyone who rides do the same, and do it annually.

If you know someone who rides and you love them, give them this book. It’s straight up, no frills, easy to read. It’s graphic when it needs to be and empowering, too. It’s an education on technique, safety, and how not to be stupid (unintentionally or otherwise).

Seriously, guys like the one I encountered give riders a bad name. And after riding 6,000 miles on a 150cc scooter I can honestly say you can put safety first and have incredible amounts of fun and be truly “bad to the bone” all at the same time.

Proficient Motorcycling: The Ultimate Guide to Riding Well
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Heart of Brass

We are women.

Sometimes we don’t have to have a heart of gold.

Sometimes we have to fight: to protect our children, our animals, our Earth,
our rights, ourselves.

When the circumstances of your life require you to channel the stealth of Weasel, the focus of Hawk, the all-encompassing awesomeness of Mother Bear, I offer a subtle reminder to slip around your neck.

You are woman. You don’t back down.

Constructed from the brass of a .22 shell.
Strung upon the palest pink leather cording.
In the Shop.

The Fence Post

I built a fence. I needed a fence to keep Daisy and her disciples out of my gardens and my home ~ Daisy has broken deck boards and patio stones and even tried to waltz right in my open door (Exhibit A).

I wanted to build this fence myself. Mike showed me the steps, he sharpened my ax, and then he reluctantly left me to my own devices. And I discovered I have some pretty kick-a** devices. I built this fence!! A post and rail fence. Posts are vertical. Rails are horizontal. And I do believe you can build one, too, if ever you should want. Here’s how:

First, become a PhD. The useful kind: a Post-hole Digger! OOH! No offense, other-kind-of-PhDs!!! {I don’t know what got into me.} Dig a hole at least 18″ deep. Eighteen inches to two feet will do the trick.

Rural wisdom: the key to setting a sturdy post is to pack all the dirt that came out of the hole back into the hole with the fence post. Shovel in some dirt, tamp it down, shovel in some more, tamp it down some more. Do this and the post will not budge.

Hole dug. Post set in the background. I scavenged posts from my neighbor ~ these are treated posts and so, while the visible part is weathered, the part in the ground still looks totally new. Treated posts keep the wood from rotting ~ if you don’t use treated wood, your posts will rot and your fence will fall down and you’ll have to start all over again!

An exception: Cedar posts need not be treated. Cedar does not rot and will last for generations ~ longer than treated posts, even. But there weren’t any of those laying around in my neighbor’s “the-more-you-take-the-less-I-have-to-clean-up” pile.

For the rails, I used pine trees that Mike and I got from the mountain, from a special spot we call the Pole Patch. These are tall tall skinny skinny trees that died long before we arrived to gather them. If you use green wood you will have issues as the wood dries. These poles are about 12 feet long, so I set my posts 10 feet apart.

One could nail these up as is, and many people do just that. BUT. If you nail a round pole to a round post, the point of connection is just that: a point. It’s weak, and the roundness of the pole allows the pole itself to roll, ever-so-slightly, via gravity or whenever someone climbs over the fence, etc. Over time it will work its way loose, eventually pulling the nail out of the post, and your rail will fall off.

The remedy is simple and fun. With a trusty ax, I flattened a section on both ends of each rail. I anchored the pole against the ground with my foot and shaved off flakes of wood to create the flat area. To help visualize: the movement of the ax is similar to a golf swing. The resulting flat area goes up against the post, creating a wide, flat, secure area of connection.

Poles with ends amended.
Once you have your poles ready, you get to nail ’em up!
With really big nails:

I should note that I do not wear giant rings while I’m working. I wear leather gloves. But I also don’t take pictures when I’m working; these photos were all taken on breaks, whilst adorned.

A nail, gleaming ever-so-slightly in the shadows, pounded halfway in.

A big iron mallet, to do the pounding.

A post and rail fence can be customized to fit your needs, materials, and desires. A two rail fence would have kept Daisy out, but I wanted something more substantial. I built an eight rail fence (though these pictures only show the beginning stages and up to six rails), because to me, an eight rail fence is more unique and more beautiful, and it creates an airy sort of wall around the oasis I am creating around my home.

Putting up the first row of poles is key, of course, for everything else grows from there. The poles should not touch the ground and should be level. Nail one pole between two posts. Move to the next section and nail up another pole. This rail will rest on top of the first rail. Then move again and nail up another pole. This rail will rest under the second rail. Diagrams are easier here:

The poles are stacked directly on top of one another at the posts. When the fence is completed, the ends of the rails can be trimmed with a chainsaw so they line up with eachother. This isn’t necessary for the integrity of the fence, it just looks nice. The two bottom rails will be trimmed to match the the rails above, after the fence is done:

The Final Specs ~
Cost: Half a tank of gas to get poles on the mountain + a few bucks for nails.
Length: This fence is 80 feet. I’m already planning another one.
Time: I worked on and off for about a week, when I could find pockets of time between rainstorms and all my other work.

This fence project started as a challenge to myself and from the simple standpoint of functionality but it grew into something so profoundly wonderful. Build a fence like this, and you can build corrals; with a few additional techniques, you can build a cabin.

And now, not only are my veggies safe from Daisy’s unforgiving hooves, I have an elegant structure that I truly love, and which reminds me, with but a glance, of my own strength and ability ~ and what a smile that brings!

How I Do

The question that’s currently inundating my inbox is the one I’ve received the most over the past few years, and while I’ve partially addressed it in my book and in some interviews, I am going to try to tackle it here, fully. And it is: “How did you take the leap of faith?/ How did you make such a drastic change with your life?/ How did you swing it financially?/ How did you DO it?”

This was a hard post to write. The answer is multifaceted and it’s a tricky question for me to answer because so much of it is tied up in who I am ~ my past, my self, my personality. But the bottom line, and the truth of it, is that I practiced.

I have practiced leaving and going and trusting and doing and taking risks and making things work on my own (and my own terms) for years. Decades. First on a small scale, then gradually increasing in scope and degree of commitment required. For as long as I can remember, I have pushed myself outside my comfort zone. I like to test myself. I still do this, all the time.

Meanwhile, I was learning to pay attention to my intuition and to trust it. I remember so many times when I would be given direct information in my head and I would ignore it and then life would prove that I was really, really dumb to have ignored that information.

This happened enough times that I finally said, OK, I don’t understand this and can’t explain it but I know I must always pay attention to that voice. And now I confidently make major decisions by tapping into that part of myself and paying attention to the information it gives me. I hold logic in very high esteem but if intuition says “yes” or “no” and logic says the opposite, I go with intuition. And I’ve never been sorry.

I believe wholly and absolutely that everyone is capable of having a strong and trustworthy relationship with their intuition, but it’s something that’s been forgotten or ignored or dismissed by our society. It, too, takes practice to become proficient, just like any skill. And I believe it is a skill, not a gift.

So there’s A) Practice and B) Trusting my intuition. C) is Failure.

Failure is really not as bad as it’s made out to be. I have failed so many times. SO MANY TIMES. Some have been minor, some major. But I think we’ve been conditioned to believe that failing is The Most Horrible Thing Ever and in reality, it’s more akin to skinning your knee. Or even getting a compound fracture. Sure, it hurts in the moment and you have to work harder to recover, just as your body must work a bit harder repairing a skinned knee or broken bone. But then, as is true for scar tissue, you’re stronger in that spot. I happen to learn best from failing. I would rather fail than not try. And sometimes I don’t fail at all. I fly.

Somewhere in this, somehow, I need to say that I don’t do things that I think are stupid. I do things that other people think are stupid, but based on practice, intuition, what I know of myself, and what I know I’m willing to risk or sacrifice, my choices never seem stupid to me. The mother of my best friend in high school had a saying, “be wild and crazy, not stupid and dangerous.” What I’ve learned is that you are the only one who knows where the line between the two lies for you.

As for the financial aspect, for me, it, too, goes back to practice and intuition and trust. When I moved to Wyoming, I did not have very much money and I did not have a job lined up. I knew that moving here was the Right Thing (and this was full-on intuition: I had not even been to this town before. My ride across the Bighorns was two hours north of here. I rented a house sight unseen, over the internet, from New York City.) Anyway, since I knew this was Right, I knew I would make something happen, work-wise, because I had to. Because I had done it in the past. Because I believe when you are doing what is right for you, in the truest sense of the word, things conspire to help you.

That said, I am A-OK with a low standard of living. I have a $1500 truck. No car payments. I have catastrophic health insurance with a $7000 deductible. Low monthly payments and I don’t go to the doctor. When I moved here, I didn’t have internet service or long distance (and I still don’t have a cell phone). I went to the library to use the internet and in doing so, I saved a bunch of money and made friends. I know what I need and I know what I don’t need and that helps me in my decisions.

So…. where does one start? Practice! Give yourself a day and just start walking. See where you end up. Take breaks when you need to on the side of the road. In a strange cafe. See what you see or who you meet. Take water, pen and paper, trail mix and your cell phone so you can call a friend to pick you up at the end of the day. The commitment level is low but the exploration quotient is high! Who knows what might change in that one day.

As for intuition, I don’t really know how to explain practicing that skill, so if anyone out there has suggestions, please please leave your ideas in the comment section. I know it is intrinsically linked with awareness. So maybe start with making lists: What do you want? What are you willing to sacrifice? What do you refuse to give up? What are you willing to risk? What, to you, is the worst thing that can happen (know thine enemy, so to speak)? Define these things. This kind of awareness brings power. One thing I learned on my Vespa trip is that confidence keeps a woman safe. Take that a step further and you have self-awareness. You have that, you have real power.

So. This is what my path has been and continues to be. “Practice” is probably the most boring and undesired answer. But that has been my truth. And while magical serendipitous experiences or profound epiphanies are incredibly awesome and can transform one’s perspective or physical reality in a moment, I believe practice and diligence are just as important. In playing the piano, one must first learn scales. And after mastering the third movement of the Moonlight Sonata, you still practice your scales. Said another way: “Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.”