Sitting in the shed at the front of the property, looking out over the orchard (figs, bloody peaches, apples) with the eucalyptus trees, hills, and spotless blue sky in the background. It's funny how ingrained in city life most of us are (most of my life was) that such a simple description of where I'm living now can sound all bucolic and charming.

Yesterday my alarm woke me at 5:30. Half of my dome is transparent so I'm always conscious of the light outside, and it was definitely still completely dark. Courageously rolled out from under my down comforter, did a headstand to get the blood rushing, and stumbled out of my dome to check the water tanks down the hill. My dome is the Far Dome, named informatively for being way the fuck out there in the middle of the woods, next to the spring which supplies the property with most of its water. After guessing the water level based on the sound the rock makes as I hit it against the side of the tank, I guessed my way along the steep up-and-down path to the yurt, losing my way in the dark on deceptive racoon or deer paths and sliding back among the fallen leaves to scope out the right way. Twenty minutes later I've made it to the yurt and the sky is more blue than black. Make myself some almond-butter raspberry oatmeal, brush my teeth, and go out to the garden for the morning's instructions. Yesterday was the first harvest (fall equinox, full moon), and so we stood under the greenhouse for hours de-leafing , our fingers numb in the morning cold. Finally the sun comes up and we move to yellow-leafing, sticking our faces into the fragrant plants, trying not to get our fingers too sticky.

After the lunch break we helped clean up the house and collect flowers for the harvest party. We're overwhelmed with an abundance of zuchinni, so I made zuchinni bread and zuchinni baba ghanoush for the party while the boys and Felicia harvested ducks. Various friends of Adrian and Felicia's came up from around mendocino county and nevada city, and we enjoyed good wine and food from the land.

I feel blessed to have found this spot-- my little white dome was already stocked with firewood when I showed up, so I'll be warm all winter. I can farm, breathe in eucalyptus, work with plants, and get paid for it. I successfully chopped my first piece of firewood the other day; and though there were no repeated successes, I'm confident that I'll keep learning. There's a funny mix of folks here: Adrian and Felicia who own the land, have a big house with buffalo skins and tribal carpets at the top of the hill, and are both incredibly knowledgeable about farming; Shane, our sweet carpenter, Dave, a really hard worker who shows his good heart by teasing incessantly (oh, azya, I heard you're gonna be making us all french toast every morning), Tim and Kayla, both quiet and productive, who went to liberal arts-y schools and then turned farmers, and Kate--- silly dancer masseuse and fierce firewood chopper. She showed me the form for girls (or smaller people) to chop wood-- sweep the axe up and around and bend your knees while bringing it down on the log.

I'm trying to figure out a rhythm here where I can have the energy to do yoga, read, and write while also doing heavy physical labor and keeping myself nourished (and walking home at night!) It's also an abrupt shift to be in a different social environment. Last night everyone talked about farming, past experiences, mutual friends--- and of course I'm out of the loop. I got used to feeling so comfortable in social situations in Chicago and at burning man, and now I'm reminded of my shy, introspective self. But parties are rare here. I want to focus on the land, learning about the plants, becoming observant to pests and animal tracks, harvesting wild herbs.

More thoughts on the culture of mendocino county to come. For now

1. Eating local is a passion.

2. Ruffles are in style.

Live and learn.