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Getaclewis

I'm a ghostwriter and book editor - there are a lot of amazing and inspirational stories that deserve and need to be told... so I help shape and polish the writing first!

I'm a mom of two teenagers and the wife of an amazing man and, at heart, a loner who doesn't like to be alone. Some days, I want to jump on the bed and laugh joyously and, other times, I can barely suppress the temptation to crawl under the bed and hide from the world. Bi-polar? Nope... just a girl!...

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Hermit Heaven

I’m beginning to believe I’d make a great hermit.

Two years ago, my husband and I stumbled across a slice of nirvana and purchased a few mountain acres with a brow view. Just wanting a primitive getaway, we spent the summer with our kids, camping in a massive tent and dashing in the wee hours to the portable toilet we enclosed in a makeshift bathhouse. Ever since, denial that we also have a home (and life) in the city has grown.

“Showering” means stepping beneath a bucket of propane-heated water and releasing its nozzle for a good drenching. To conserve the few gallons each container will hold, sudsing requires turning off the water flow. On. Off. On. Off. Restoring cleanliness is an adventure all its own!

Cooking is a gourmet experience prepared on a stump and seared on an open flame, then served on the picnic table we crafted and pieced together.

Movie night features stretching a sheet across the clothesline and projecting our DVD upon it from our laptop under a zillion stars.

Shopping takes us not to a mall, but each Saturday to a local field in Alabama for Trade Day, a sprawling assemblage of folks who’ve brought their best (or most expendable) clutter, livestock, knick knacks, veggies and clothing to sell or barter.

Just around the bend, within a quarter of a mile, are several impressive waterfalls, swimming holes, rope swings, caves and a canyon.

We are having the time of our lives.

The years keep passing and not much has changed. Thanks to last month’s birthday, Saturdays are now spent jet skiing on the local lake. We did get a 4 wheeler, too, for recreational motoring around the many dirt paths. To house it, we erected a 12x8 box.

Let me tell you that the act of pounding nails, hoisting sheets of plywood and watching something rise where there was nothing is a deeply moving experience (no pun intended). Our neighbors on the mountain stopped in and lent their shoulders and strength and accumulated knowledge and good will. It is community as it is surely meant to be. In a matter of days, our first solid structure was complete.

The only problem is that my dearly beloved is an architect, so our ATV shed is no MERE shack. Before he finished, it was outfitted as a warm loft for the winter with custom ladder, a kitchenette complete with electrical outlets and a dining table. Oh yeah, and carpeting. Suffice to say that the 4 wheeler was no longer allowed inside beyond its debut.

Enter Sanford & Son. Once I kicked the vehicle out of my new writer’s cubby, as I so claimed it, it was necessary to build a shed attachment to the … er… shed. It juts out the other side. Now there’s ample storage for wheels AND the hammock, yard swing and myriad tools we are quickly accumulating. Oh, how clutter threatens to accumulate, especially in a haven so wee.

The screen porch we added, so we could have air flow minus flying or crawling creatures, houses our bed that flips down from its latch on the wall. A cool breeze stirs our covers each night and sunrise greets us upon morning.

Then there’s the Lexus, which formerly defined me.

I gave mine to my baby sister and, until fuel prices drove me toward my current VW bug, I chose instead to drive a Ford F250. Extended cab, 4-wheel drive, diesel (can you say LOUD) by golly pick’em-up TRUCK, thank you very much. If you must ask, it was RED, natch. To complete my bona fide redneck certification, my vanity plate read “HERTRUK.”

Picture me in the Atlanta school carpool between Mercedes and BMWs. They cringed; I smiled.

My husband hated to drive it alone because of the looks he got over the license plate. I’ve seen those looks myself when, after we dropped off her brother at school, my older daughter stayed beside me on the bench seat. It was clear what people were thinking as they saw us snugged up together, me in baseball cap behind the wheel and her head on my shoulder. Again, I just smiled and waved.

On Fridays, we pile into ye ol’ wheels and head for the drive-in movie with our lawn chairs, football, frisbee and huge dogs.

It’s rural heaven and I love it.

Sure, it gets chilly after fall’s end, but that’s the beauty of it. During the winter, this place is deserted. The leaves are off the trees and you can see forever. I can walk for hours down mountain trails and see no other human. Yesterday, I startled a flock of turkeys and had to wait for a doe and her two babies to cross my path.

It’s pure Disney.

As I stroll, waiting on occasion for Cortez, who always lags behind to sniff various animal scents, or hurrying to reach King, who waits for no man, it occurs to me how wholly I enjoy my time alone.

In the mornings, I rise and cook a simple breakfast. I wash dishes in a sink whose water, heated by a coffee urn, splashes into a bucket for tossing. I do a little writing, sit on my favorite rock ledge to eye the sprawling mountains and take long, meditative walks.

Though I’ll never grow a beard, I think I’d make a great hermit.

My home is simple but enough. In three steps, I’ve crossed its entire length. Within my reach is all the food I require, a comfortable place to sleep, an inspirational view and Internet access. Thank goodness, I also get a great cell phone signal.

Hmm, cell phone…

Okay, so I do call my husband frequently when he’s traveling and text him even more. And my kids, who are at their dad’s this week, will check in when they get home from school. I talked to my sister for an hour this morning and one of our favorite neighbors dropped in to answer my crisis call over a flipped breaker.

I also get wistful on days like this, when the sky is blue and the air is warm. Surely there is someone I could invite who needs a friend and a wide-open place to roam just to rejuvenate.

I want to bring our fourth graders from Sunday School here and teach them that just being a kid sure is fun when there are rocks to climb and ropes from which to swing into startlingly clear pools of water. I want them to see that petting a devoted dog, praying thanks from the heart and being surrounded by nothing but trees is wealth beyond compare.

I want to share what is most amazing in my world.

I’m beginning to believe I’d make a lousy hermit.