On shelling beans in the storm

So last night we were sitting out in the awning with lightning flashes which were lighting up the sky every few seconds. It was getting dark. And we were shelling beans. No sound apart from Boolie snoring and thunder cracking.

"I can see us doing a lot of this in the future" said Lester with a smile.

We didn't get a humungous pile of beans. Probably enough for three meals. But it was another small step towards feeding ourselves.

I am going to save most of the beans for a mid winter feed. I think that eating summer harvested food in the middle of winter brings back the warmth of the sun. Not that we are ever lacking in warmth here. Even in the middle of winter the sun gives us a warm bath when it shines. At the moment it is endeavouring to cook us, though. Forty degrees yesterday, and it was hot, hot, hot.

I moved into the half barn yesterday. Not entirely. Just my rocking chair and my bag of crocheting. I sat in the middle of the space, in the coolness of the space, and felt the peace of the space seep into me.

Someone recently visited who was full of negative stuff, making us feeled pulled down and negative as well. I don't know why people feel the need to dump their disbelief that we can survive here. I don't know how people can be so very, very unkind. Or why they think they have the right to diminish our enthusiasm. Perhaps that's what upsets them: the fact that we are enthusiastic and living our life when they are parked up on the sidelines, letting their lives pass on by. Perhaps we make them feel diminished and that is why they have the driving need to diminish us by their unkind words.

We have survived here. And very well. Both as a couple, and as individuals.

Most of all, we are proud that of our achievement here.

For a while I wanted to leave here. For a while I wanted to sell up and go away from this place. That is what that visitor did to me. My passion was taken away.

But last night we sat in a storm, with bright flashes of lightning spurting across the sky, shelling beans we had grown ourselves. And yesterday I moved into the half barn and spent a very pleasurable hour crocheting away in the middle of the space which will eventually be our home.

Things I have learnt: That anyone who feels the need to be disrespectful of our efforts here must be thought of as being a sad person living out a sad life.
That anyone who feels the need to critisize needs not to be encouraged to make a return here.
That there are very few people who actually enjoy our efforts, and they can be counted on the fingers of one hand. They are people who are actually living their lives as well and not standing idly by waiting to die.