The goal was to get back to Maine — maybe not die at the border, but close. Just get back. I’ve since told people that I’ve achieved that ultimate goal and I am here to exist, in any manner, and be buried on family property. That held through the winter and some less than gratifying jobs. This weekend has changed that.

I got into the woods and worked for myself; at my own pace. Finally lashing together my homemade rope harness — well researched YouTube ™ videos — and climbing a tree was the literal and figurative high point. Scratching the ground to pour a footing and build a dwelling is going to take time. The lesson of the weekend was to really push on my weak point: follow through.

How many unfinished ideas and projects do we leave in the wake of our lives? The construction site can look like a prepper’s hellscape; with burning stumps and scattered tools.

Sleeping in the tent that night, though, reinforced my hope to stay ambitious and follow through on all my short term plans. It turns out that the “hopes and dreams,” that I dismiss so easily when queried, have bubbled up in my winter slumber and are blooming in spring.