On Finding a Home

Listen to your intuition. Follow the signs.

Settle in. This one is long with lots of photos. So, if you’re listening, you might want to scroll at the same time.

Three years ago today I experienced magic like never before in my entire lifetime.

I met this little house and the land she sits on.

I always like to share the above photo because it still makes me smile every time I pull up my driveway. She looks like a tiny house. Here’s another view so you can see that I have a little more living space.

I love that the lower part of the house is built into the hill. My favorite Laura Ingalls Wilder book was “On the Banks of Plum Creek,” where she lived with her family in a house built of sod. It was my first thought when I saw her from the side. Leave it to a lifelong lover of books to make that association.

Some of you who were reading my posts back in the day pre-Substack might remember when I wrote about my move. Here it is again, with an upgrade.

It was titled “Meet The Bear Den!” And I wrote: 

I’m writing this post in hopes that my recent experience will give you hope that something you’re longing for can come true, if only you hold the vision while at the same time (and this part is important), you move forward towards making it happen.

I had written in a previous post titled “Sometimes You Just Need to Get a Move On” about my journey to find a new place to call home. 

I learned how to be in Nature in the most unlikely of urban places, but I yearn to be somewhere where it’s more abundant. Where I can walk barefoot in the grass. Breathe clean air. Climb a tree or take naps under her canopy. Look up and see the mountains. I feel like I’m halfway there. Praying that I find my new home soon.

When the signs appear, pay attention.

I shared my daydreams about being able to walk out my door into the woods with mountains all around me. I fantasized about living near a lake, a river, or even a stream nearby.

About how I need four distinct seasons. Including snow. Yes, snow.

I am really sensitive to the energy of a place. And there had been a great deal of confusion for me in the years prior to my move.

I had thought that I'd head to the mountains of North Carolina. It’s breathtakingly beautiful there. But something energetically nagged at me every time I would visit.

I remember biking by the mighty Mahicanituk River (AKA Hudson) in 2019 and asking her “When will my time here in Jersey City be complete?” I moved to NYC in 2003 and, later, Jersey City in 2015.

When 2020 rolled around, so much had changed, both individually and collectively. I felt a sense of urgency to get as far away from the big city as possible. The little building I lived in, filled with fellow artists, was surrounded by high-rise construction which seemed never-ending.

And, on the inside, the 2020 narrative was in full swing, with stickers on the floor, signs saying “one person to an elevator,” and masked neighbors with fear or anger in their eyes. Add to that the noisy construction happening on the floors below. I couldn’t do it.

I bought my first car in sixteen years (named her Willow) because I knew that wherever I ended up, I would need wheels. No more city living for me.

I did a practice road trip run in Upstate NY to visit friends before bravely (or stupidly) driving by myself all the way to Michigan and back. 

I still have family in Michigan, and there are lots of lakes and forests up north and definitely four seasons. A friend suggested that maybe the Mitten state was calling me back home. But something felt off. No mountains.

I continued on through Pennsylvania and did some exploring in an area where a dear friend was relocating with her husband. It’s beautiful there. It seemed like the perfect plan. It felt comforting (just like it would have in NY or Michigan) to have someone I love nearby.

But, again, something was off, and my intuition would not have it. Michigan and Pennsylvania felt comfortable but like false alarms.

And then, on my return trip home through Pennsylvania, I heard The Voice say “Go look in New Hampshire.” I’d never been to New Hampshire or anywhere else in New England.

My friend, Robin, who lived there, had years before said to me “I think you’d love New Hampshire.”

And so, rather spur-of-the-moment-ish Willow and I drove to the Granite State. My heart skipped a little beat when I heard that name because, you know, I'm a rockhound.

The minute I crossed the border from Massachusetts into New Hampshire my whole body relaxed, and I let out a sigh. Oh my goodness, the Trees. It seemed as though the Trees owned the state. They line the highways with such a majestic presence. They are EVERYWHERE.

Robin graciously invited me to stay in her home. I was tired and anxious from the drive, and the stress of looking for a house to rent which seemed almost impossible was wearing me down. We drove up to the lakes region and looked at a couple of houses that were a bust, and then had a picnic lunch on the shores of Lake Winnipesaukee. I rambled on about how much I love a good sandwich for lunch, and then we headed back to Robin’s.

I was feeling so ungrounded, and my intuition channel seemed scrambled. I felt like jumping ship and Friday night decided that I was going to pack up and head back home.

Saturday morning Robin knocked on my door and said that she wanted to show me a house she found online. It had just been listed. 

It was a quirky little house (albeit totally adorable) but nothing at all like what I’d been picturing and trying to manifest. No porch, which I'd clearly requested many times, and no space for a studio.

I'd been dreaming of a pink house like the one in another favorite children's book titled "The Little House" by Virginia Lee Burton. The book had been sitting on my coffee table for inspiration. I guess my guides didn’t get that message.

But wait! I just went and re-read the book and The Little House sat upon a hill! :) It's just a Cape Cod version, that's all. We need to be REALLY specific with our wishes.

At any rate, The Voice ordered me to check it out, so I tried to reach the rental agent but didn’t get a response. Robin and I decided to drive up there anyway. It was literally in the same area we’d just come back from.

And oh, isn’t it funny that I was going on and on about sandwiches the day before and the little house lives in Sandwich? 

We were driving down the road, and all I could think was “Look at these trees.” They were ablaze with color. And intermixed with majestic Pines.

Betty, my navigation lady, said that we’d reached our destination. But, it was a different little house that we found ourselves parked in front of. It was next to the road, in front of a bigger house up on a hill.

We were sitting there confused when a truck pulled up behind us, and a man got out. It was his house, why were we there? I asked if it was for rent and he said “No,” and I said, “But there’s a listing for this address.” After a moment’s thought, he said “Oh! We have a little house for rent down the road. Maybe my wife listed it. Would you like to see it?”

We pulled up a steep gravel driveway and saw the little house perched atop the hill. The forest around her. Mountains across the way. Check. Check. I got out of the car and immediately saw that the hill was teeming with wild medicinal plants. Mullein, Red Clover, Yarrow. Plants for foraging. Check.

If I couldn’t have a pink house, my second choice was Goldenrod yellow. This house wasn’t yellow, but there was Goldenrod growing EVERYWHERE.

The energy of the land felt calm, magical, and welcoming.

The owner of the house began telling us her history and how they had just renovated and moved her to the top of the hill. And, “Oh,” he said, “The house even has a name. 

It’s The Bear Den.”

When the signs appear, pay attention.

Robin immediately pointed out the Bear charm hanging around my neck that I wear most days. I have a wild and deep connection with the Bear Spirit. I’ve had incredible dreams, daydreams, and shamanic journeys with Bear. When I journey to the Lower World, I almost always end up in The Bear Den.

The house, well, I’d been wanting to simplify my life, and maybe that’s why the Universe guided me to it. I didn’t know where I’d be able to paint or store things for that matter, but trusted that I’d find a way.

The Little Barn is now mine to use, although lately, it’s the mice who seem to be spending the most time in there. :(

And there’s the cutest little outhouse behind it.

After the owner left, Robin and I spread a blanket out on the hill and had another picnic lunch. Unfortunately, we didn’t have any sandwiches. 

The land felt so peaceful that day. I looked up and realized that I’d be able to see the moon and the stars at night.

I’d be breathing clean air and drinking pure water. Not just from my well but from a spring a few miles down the road that my Eagle-eyed friend had spotted.

The woods surround me on three sides, and I am literally cradled in mountain ranges.

There’s not a house in sight (although they are there, down the road, as I explained to concerned friends and family). Across the road is an Audubon Wildlife Sanctuary.

I have taken hundreds of pictures of my spectacular view.

And from across the road in the Wildlife Sanctuary. Did I say I’m nestled in mountain ranges?

I felt every emotion and physical sensation before and after saying “yes” to renting this house.

Runaway anxiety.

Uncertainty.

Stomach-churning.

Heart pounding.

Terror at the actual moving process.

Joy. Excitement. Gratitude.

Just to name a few.

I’d made a promise to myself that I would never move during Vata Season. Moving is one of the most ungrounding things for Vata, along with travel. It was full-on Vata Season, and I was due to move on 11/11. When they asked me when I wanted to move in that date literally flew out of my mouth.

I knew it would be a lucky number.

A couple of days later, before I knew that the house was mine to rent, Robin and I took another drive up. It poured rain all day, but the trees were still spectacularly colorful. We went to Beede Falls nearby and ventured into the fairyland surrounding it, rain pouring down on us.

When we left the area to head back, Robin turned to me and asked if I was going to get a new bed and mattress. I thought that was kind of an odd question, but the fact was that I’d been thinking about it.

We literally rounded the corner, and there was a big sign reading “Custom Mattresses for Sale!” Lol. One final sign.

If you want, desire, or need something in your life to change, just keep moving forward.

Take a trip.

Make a call.

Rent/buy a car so you can explore.

Ask for help.

Take that class.

Speak your dreams out loud.

Write them down.

And pay attention to the signs.

Willow was my first giant step forward.

And now here I am, living in a little house in New Hampshire, up on a hill, surrounded by trees and mountains and giant boulders that I can sit on and ponder.

I can hang my clothes on a clothesline which I’ve wanted to do forever.

I pictured twinkle lights (the fairies love them) and herbs drying from the rafters.

I discovered that I enjoy stacking and chopping wood. Who knew? This was my first official wood delivery.

And I love having a woodstove to heat the house and warm up food during power outages (of which there have been many.)

It’s finally getting cold, so I’ll be bringing in some of the plants to overwinter them inside like I did last year. They have declared dibs on my long table until it warms up again in the spring.

My Nemeton welcomed me back after months of biting bugs.

Each year that I’m here seems to bring more magic. This year, I learned about the Pond who I wrote about in my last post.

I’ve been back to visit a few times - she’s just down the path through the woods.

I’ve named her “Gone Away Pond” after yet another favorite children’s book of mine called “Gone Away Lake” by Elizabeth Enright.

There I go again with the children’s books.

Gone Away Pond

It was a summer filled with wild animal visits.

A Bear peered into my kitchen screen door while I ate my breakfast.

A Moose locked eyes with me right in my front yard.

A Coyote pup came to visit.

A Wild Turkey party of five feasted on the seeds I left them all summer long and they thanked me by eating ticks. Sadly, they’ve moved on somewhere else. I hope they’re not in someone’s freezer.

A Bobcat and Chipmunks,

Owls and Dragonflies.

Hawks and Crows.

A Mourning Dove named Clara showed up one morning after a storm and stayed all summer.

And those darn Mice in the barn. :(

I know how blessed I am. I know there are horrible things happening in the world right now. I often wonder what I did to deserve finding a place so in sync with myself. Allowing me to live in peace and solitude with the plants and the animals.

I hope that if you’re struggling to find your place in the world, both literally and figuratively, my story will inspire you.

Finally, thank you to my beautiful and intuitive friend, Robin, who played such a vital role in all of this. She found this treasure of a house and helped me settle into it.

The first night I slept here, it felt like home.

Much Love,
Barbara