What follows is a growing list of reasons I love living here up on a mountain-top, in the sticks (literally and literary-ly). Sure, there's downsides, but there's downsides to living anywhere, so may as well dwell on the good stuff and chalk the rest up to whatever-doesn't-kill-you-only-makes-you-stronger. I'll be adding to this list from time to time as I realize new little jewels, but for now it's...
...The view.
I love how I can turn my head 90 degrees from my computer and behold a world of mountains. Mountains covered in snow in the morning and mountains that looked as if it had never snowed by mid-afternoon, as if they kept the whole affair a secret. I love how I can look out of the nursery window as I'm feeding Gwen and watch what could be deleted scenes from Bambi or Snow White, complete with foraging rabbits, squirrels, crested blue jays and quail, all frolicking together. It's just not normal, but in a good way.
...Finding that I'm becoming re-sensitized to nature.
As a kid, our family would go on walks several times a week. Walks around the neighborhood, to the local park, trails within Eaton Canyon. And a couple times a year we'd go camping at the beach or the mountains. It was where we went to get away from the hustle of life, and those became the places that restored peace to my increasingly more involved, busy and complex life. As school became all-consuming, it was all I could do from letting the cracks in the ground swallow me up, and I think it was at that point a part of my soul aways kept its nose to the grindstone, not looking up for anything. A part, I say--I didn't totally lose it--but I suspicion that part got a burnt fuse or something equivalent, and it's been long overdue for repair. As I took Pippin out for a walk last week, I finally felt as though the good doctor, Nature, finally started tinkering around in there.
...That I'm getting stronger.
Sure, having a 95th percentile, all-American 6-month-old is like having your own portable gym, but we hadn't lived here more than a week before I incinerated the remainder of my baby weight and could fit into my normal jeans. I credit hauling firewood up the stairs and--no, that's it. Just hauling firewood up the stairs. I can also tell by the fact that I wake up sore, and go to bed sore, so I gotta be shredding muscle somewhere...
...That we have a real, wood-burning fireplace.
Well, lots of non-mountain homes have those, but it's more than just a fireplace, it's a hearth; the heart of the house. Since our propane gas is so expensive to use, we decided to let our fireplace do the work of heating our home. Yes, it's a chore, scooping out the ashes every morning, gathering kindling, hauling calorie-burning logs, actually getting the fire started (and blowing blowing blowing on those fledgling flames for a fighting chance in this thin air), tending to the fire from morning to evening and sweeping up the bits of twig and dirt that inevitably congregate on the floor. But all that somehow adds to its presence and importance; as if those merry flames, pops, sparks, warmth and aroma make it a part of the family. And it's perfect for having an excuse to make s'mores.
...The sound.
And the lack of noise. There's nothing like the sound of wind combing through the needles of far-off pine trees.
...The untamed, unpredictable weather.
You can put money on the type of weather you'll get 99% of the time in 95% of southern California, but up here, all you can put money on is that it'll surprise you. It's kind of refreshing as it's one less thing I think I have certain knowledge about. And with winter weather upon us, no snow tires, and chains that may or may not fit, we're basically at the mercy of its whims, instead of at the mercy of our schedules. I know, you think schedules are a good thing, but they're overrated.
...The stars.
And the milky Way. Both to behold in abundance.
...The cold.
There's something nice about experiencing distinct seasons, even the cold ones, if only because they're different, a change of pace. Winter
...Making us better stewards of our time and resources.
So, you'd think it would be really expensive to rent a beautiful chalet in the mountains, but just the opposite is true! We shell out nearly half of what we were paying about an hour down the road, we've found firewood (heating) at virtually no cost aside from a chainsaw, and electricity is a pittance compared to the insanity that were our central-air summer bills. Since the grocery store we shop at is 50 miles away, we've become better meal planners and list writers, which have saved us tons.
...A neighborly atmosphere.
I find that smaller communities, especially smaller communities in the snow, are much friendlier, which probably hearkens back to olden times when people in close quarters would die if they didn't get along or lend a hand. Everyone we've met has been super nice-- "Oh, come have lunch with us girls and share in some gossip!", and "Come hang out in the yarn shop if you just need to get out of the house", and "Do you need help shoveling your driveway?" and "Would you like my liquor collection?" (my favorite).
Anyway, the list will surely go on, and so will the drinks, for quite a while.
