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I packed clothes, drinking water, and food this morning, so I can stay out here for a couple days. Now as I pull into the driveway, I will say that I'm coming home.

After unloading, I dig another square piece of ground, about 13' x 13'. That takes me half a day, digging by hand. I wander back into the south woods, soaking in the sights and sounds. There are peepers singing in the swamp. I approach stealthily, but not quietly enough. Before I can spy a single one, they all fall silent.

Some areas are thick with tiny maple or fir seedlings. I retrieve a couple buckets from the shed, then come back and dig several of these seedlings, and transplant them into the open slope between the house and road. He who plants a tree proclaims hope for the future. It's beginning to sink in. This is my land. I desire to know it, to learn from it, to shape it and to be shaped by it.

As the evening approaches, it grows chilly. I gather some dry sticks from the woods near the house, and go inside, to start my first fire in the wood stove.

Let's see now - a little paper first, then twigs, then larger sticks, like so. Put a match to it. There - it's burning, but... kinda slow and smoky. Maybe if I open the ash pit door a little... there, that helps. Now it's going good, this will take the chill out of the house in short order. Pile a few more sticks in there. Maybe some of this corrugated; that ought to burn well. Whoa! That's a bit too hot - I don't think it's good when the smoke pipe starts to glow red! Close the ash pit door, and - what's this other gizmo? Let's see - if I turn this handle like so, that baffle thingy closes off the air supply, and the fire dies down some. OK. I can learn to do this, too. Not as easy as adjusting a thermostat, but quite learnable.

I set the cot up close to the stove, and lay myself down for the night; the quiet country noises are my lullaby.