December 2003 Newsletter
Online Issue # 5

Profile of Catherine:

Catherine's profile first appeared in the paper version of this newsletter in the Winter of 2002. The newsletters that followed are all online and available in the archive on this web site. Now Catherine's story is available online too. First, her original profile, followed by her update.

I Didn't Wait to Win the Lottery

A year ago I could not have believed where I would be today. I had the best-paying job I've ever had, a house I loved, good friends, a fine life: safe, familiar, secure.

Except for the screaming voice. That, and turning fifty.

I had listened to this voice before, this longing. It had propelled me on the best adventures of my life. Now it was relentless. Now it was loud. "What are you waiting for?"

I had just been fortunate enough, thanks to great aunt Dora's bequest, my parents' gift, and my savings, to buy forest land in Wisconsin, in the northwoods I've loved since I was a kid.

Parting from the land to return to the cities and my stressful corporate job was difficult. Every day the job was more stressful. Every day I could feel myself aging faster. On weekends I was volunteering for a Green Party candidate in my neighborhood, and the distinctions between my values and those at the corporation became sharper. The voice was shrieking.

So I finally listened.

It said, "All your life you've wanted to live close to the woods, live with the rhythms of nature, live green." And "all my life" wasn't so long anymore. Zoom! "It's time," said the voice.

Even though I didn't know how to do any of this, I set off. I learned how to buy a car. I learned how to sell my house. (I never did learn how to stop loving it.) I had to go through every bit of my stuff and give it away, throw it out, or pack it. I had to say goodbye to my beloved friends and Minnesota, where I'd lived for thirty years. I drove off in a rental truck, with my friend Peggy driving my car.

I didn't go straight to my land. I went to stay with my sister Susan in rural Illinois. She and her husband Tom gave me the gift of a rent-free place. I could help fix up their house, working for love instead of money. Every few weeks I went to my land, camping there or staying at my parents' nearby cabin.

Gradually my inner compass reset itself. North. On my land, a possible building site began to reveal itself. That, and the coming of cold weather told me it was time to take the next step. I moved to Wisconsin, first staying with my parents, and when they went back to Arizona, renting an off-season cottage for the winter. After seven weeks, I finally found a job. Besides paying rent, I will need to qualify for a building loan next spring. The profit from the sale of my house covers the car and about half of my estimate for building the cottage (and, of course, I could be way off!).

I'm learning about passive solar heating. And about soapstone and other woodstoves. About below-the-frost-line foundations. About wells and septic systems. About house plans and whole other languages.

I'm also learning how beautiful my land is. There are white pine, Norway pine, red oak, red maple, birch, aspen and hemlock trees, hazelnut brush, ferns, moss, lichen and wildflowers. Every walk is different. Familiar paths change with the weather, let alone the season. Without leaves now, suddenly the topography is much clearer, helping to confirm the building site. This time next year I hope to be living on my land, in my cottage.

I'm learning how friendly people are here. I'm learning to slow, to quiet, to breathe. I'm learning more deeply the blessings of family and friends. I miss my friends terribly, but I am building guest accommodations. I appreciate my parents and siblings more than ever. I am very grateful for their support of my dream, both practically and emotionally.

And then, every once in a while, it comes to me full force: I'm here, where I've always wanted to be. I took a leap of faith and I landed. My voice is singing.

December 2003 Update:

I LOVE THIS PLACE

Nearly two years later, and I write this from my forest cottage. It's real. It took a little longer--and felt much longer--than I thought (although by building norms it went quickly and smoothly). My beloved dog died suddenly before it was done. The cottage, like the land, was blessed. Jami, the architectural designer, drew a simple, elegant plan based on how I live day to day, indoors and out. Mike, the builder, made a strong, true house. It is well built through and through. This summer my mother built the pantry shelves. My cottage reminds me of poetry: concise, surprising, and deeply beautiful. I am lucky to be here.

P.S. A new dog now lives with me.

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