I’ve been very weird about my land since I took ownership of it in September 2020. I’d been working on it since late July and I even had the key to the creepy barn, but I had no desire to stay there until very recently. I feel like my reluctance has been some bizarre combination of being comfortable and feeling at home at my friend’s place, and of having some bizarre mental block about the whole thing. I can’t really put my finger on why I haven’t been eager to spend the night except that it all seemed a bit dark and scary over there. Throw in a mild dislike for camping and a strong like for my morning routine and creature comforts, and I guess we have our answer… somewhere in between ‘I’m scared’ and ‘I don’t like to be uncomfortable’.

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I’m back in the Fundão area of Central Portugal for the third year in a row, this time with the possibility of buying land a little closer on the horizon. I’m not sure I’ll be in a position to buy anything until around November, but I’m keeping my eyes open and if something great crosses my path, maybe I’ll find a way to make it work. In the meantime I bought a rather glorious bicycle, I’m reluctantly on the lookout for a car, and I’m slowly accumulating tools.

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The other night, only my second on the farm, I was laying in my comfy bed inside a super cozy yurt in a rainstorm. A rather relaxing experience, really. Until that first drop of water landed on my pillow. I turned the light on to find that I was under attack by drips from all sides and that my pillow puddle was growing ever larger. My solution was to pull the heavy bed a bit more into the middle of the yurt, flip my pillow over, and to relocate to the other side of the bed in the hope that the puddle wouldn’t seep too far in my direction.

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