With the furnace humming and the frostbite threat dialed down, it was time for something different:
A mission.
A drive.
A first glimpse at what we’d really come here for.
We set out toward our new town — that mysterious dot on the map near the land we bought, sight mostly unseen, in faith and fire.
It was… surreal.
After all the snowstorms, after all the parking lot overnights and freezing feet, we were finally on the road not just away from something — but toward something.
We rolled through small-town streets.
Found the groceries, the hardware store, the coffee (praise the gods).
But even more than supplies, we were scouting something deeper:
> “Could this place feel like home?”
Would we be welcome?
Would the roads to the land be passable?
Would the locals see us as weirdos, outsiders, cityfolk trying to cosplay homestead life?
So far… no pitchforks.
Just a few curious glances and one or two friendly nods.
We didn’t quite reach the land that day.
Too much snow.
Too many unknowns.
And no 4WD magic wand yet.
But we got close.
We could feel it, just behind the treeline — waiting. Watching.
Like a secret you haven’t been told yet, but will be, in time.
This drive wasn’t just recon.
It was a ritual.
The beginning of relationship — between us and the soil, the ice, the space that’s about to become our sanctuary.
We’re not just passing through anymore.
We’re moving in.
Based on: “Did We Make It to the Land?” Feb 7, 2024
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