March 2008 - Simplify the Universe

By the time you get this issue in your hands, Spring will be just days away. That's reason enough for me to quit talking about the snakes for a while - it's getting warm enough for the critters to come out of hiding again. And, even though I think the worst incidents are behind me (no pun intended), I still have to be able to sleep at night. So, we'll let the snakes rest for a while. That is, of course, unless another great story happens along the way!

By the way, thanks to all of you have written - or phoned - or stopped me in the store somewhere. We've had a lot of laughs reminiscing about my stories, and a lot of your own. Apparently, I'm not the only one around here who keeps their wildlife inside!

And, I'm amazed at how this little magazine gets around. In the short six months since the first issue, I can't count the number of strangers who have stopped me on the street to say how much they enjoy it. I've even gotten e-mails from out-of-staters telling me snake jokes or offering possible keep-the-snakes-away solutions. We all share a few good laughs, and despite our less-than-perfect living arrangements, my family is having a good time experiencing the country.

There have been so many unexpected things we've had to deal with or learn about since moving to a hundred-year-old farmhouse up a narrow holler. Remember, we lived in some nicer houses before our move here (that sort of happens when you are married to a contractor). Most of them have been in well-manicured subdivisions with little wildlife -- except for the occasional misguided field mouse.

In addition to the various critters that we've had to adjust to, there have been many other notable "situations" over the last few months. I can't wait to tell you about a few more memorable experiences the old Snake Pit has thrown our way. Even ordinary things can be tremendously funny in the right situation. In the next few months, I'll tell you about the exploding gas dryer, five-gallon buckets, raising chickens and redneck plumbing, just to name a few.

My poor husband cringes each time I announce, "Do you want to read my next column?" You see, he's a little more embarrassed about some of the things that have happened than I am. I figure it's better to laugh about it than to cry (that only applies in hindsight, though, because I have shed a few tears here and there). And, he's starting to lose patience with the old house. I guess that's the carpenter in him. If he doesn't like it, he just wants to make a new one.

He's very ready to start building a new home - I'm content just setting in the old one for a while. It's the first time in both our lives we can begin and end each day not worrying about construction. We actually have time to live, not just exist. I'm not quite ready to give that up - yet.

It's hard to believe that almost two years have passed since we decided to come back to the hills. I remember many long, sleepless nights wondering if this was the right decision. The worry about how we would make a living, the inconveniences of isolation, the criticism everyone threw our direction ... It was one of the most gut-wrenching times of my life. We had a good and plentiful life down South, but at the same time, we were starting to feel an emptiness that was hard to put into words.

There have been very few times I've stepped aside and let someone else make a major decision that would affect me and my children, but this time I decided to do whatever Richard wanted to about moving (not without complaining, of course). But I did it. It was a major step for me in redefining how I wanted to live the next phase of my life. I'm still not totally convinced it was the right decision. But, I do know that everyone seems happier at the end of each day - even in the old house - even up the muddy holler - even in the middle of nowhere.

There's a quote by the infamous Henry David Thoreau that goes: "As you simplify your life, the laws of the universe will be simpler; solitude will not be solitude, poverty will not be poverty, nor weakness weakness." I had never heard those words until a good friend of mine wrote that quote and six others by Thoreau in a handmade book for me to take on my journey "back home." She's the kind of confidant everyone hopes to have at least one of in life - sort of like a parent/sibling/friend/philosopher/genius all rolled into one.

She picked seven quotes because she wanted me to have one to focus on each day of the week. Each one represented some personal struggle in my life over the years. It turned out to be one of the most important gestures anyone has ever extended to me.

Each Monday when I turn the pages back to that particular quote, I'm reminded of the strength of its meaning and how, over the months, I've come to comfortably discern its wisdom. When I feel a bit homesick or agitated because of some lack of convenience, I start to daydream about my previous life, my newer home or my concrete driveway. Then I quickly remember what various prices we paid for those luxuries and I'm learning to feel grateful to be where I am now. It seems that this "mountain therapy" concept might actually be working in ways I didn't expect.

Hoping to simplify their lives, Kim Butler and her family recently returned to Calhoun County after 20 years near Charlotte, North Carolina. They spend their free time putting their old farm back together, keeping wildlife out of the old house and honing their country skills. They plan to build a log home soon. You can contact Kim at kimbutler@frontiernet.net.