I walked the property line for the first time. Nate, whose house this technically still is for a few more days, is moving west soon, so I asked him to show me the markers: how big is 4.46 acres, really?
Turns out, it’s pretty big.
We tromped down to the power line (which I’ve walked many times in the winter with the dog). The dewberry plants are thick there, as well as all through my woods. Then we turned north to find the next pink flag, which was much farther from the house than I’d expected.
There are no paths across the property, other than to the scrap lumber pile. I didn’t cut across and bushwhack back to the house, but I’m going to. Maybe I’ll even take a ball of red string, call up a Greek myth, and trace my way out and home again.
I haven’t had land like this before– not that was “mine,” as much as land can belong to a person, which is not at all. But it’s mine in the sense that no one’s going to come yell at me to get off their property or to take down a tree fort or to stop clearing brush to make way for the raspberry canes.
I like that I haven’t ventured far yet, or discovered hardly anything. I’m like my cat, keeping close to the edge of the yard, getting a feel for this new environment and finding more than enough to keep me occupied within arm’s reach. When we’re ready, little by little or maybe in a sudden sprint after a chipmunk, we’ll explore the rest.