Cabin Fever - A Test in Patience

We finally closed on the property!  Now it's raining in Austin. As you know, there have been record flash floods and terrible devastation down in San Marcos and Wimberly. This rain has us grounded in the condo, so we can't get out to Fayette County to start our new adventure. Tammy made me a sandwich, so I can sit here and imagine our rural future.

In fact, it was raining last weekend when we finally closed, and in true stubborn Christy fashion, I attempted to drive through the gate and explore our new piece of swampy paradise. I got stuck to the hubs.

So we met all the neighbors. I mean, everybody in Carmine, Texas took an afternoon drive to gawk at the two girls seriously stuck in a ditch. The two girls who met the sweet man across the road that tried really hard to lift my tailgate out of the muck with his front end loader.  The two girls who met George the wrecker guy who had to wench me out of that ditch. The two girls covered in mud. The two girls that met the man who runs his cows on our property (he's a real wealth of resources, thank god). The two girls the county commissioner knew would call him and ask for a culvert so that they could drive into their new property. He knew because I called him to describe exactly where that culvert needed to go, and he said, "Weren't you stuck in the ditch right there last Saturday?" Which takes me back to everybody in Carmine taking an afternoon drive to gawk at two girls stuck in the mud.

Anyway. Welcome to the country, y'all. And I forgot to take pictures because I was just too hot, too muddy, and too distracted to remember to do that. We did take a walk - or a crawl - through our heavily wooded, very soppy, soaked property that is home to a couple of little streams, one little pond, about a million trees, and a whole lot of mud.

We shall build a tree house

Jungle conditions require jungle accommodations. It makes total sense to build the first little cabin on our new place about 8 feet off the ground. I am actually very happy it was totally gross and wet when we explored. We could see exactly how the water moves through the property, and where it is causing erosion. Not only will a tree house be practical, it will fit very naturally into the heavy forest.

So I took to drawing a tiny tree house.  It's 16X16. It has a tiny porch. It has a tiny bedroom for me and Tammy. It has a tiny space for the kiddo. It also has a tiny bathroom. We can create a cool outdoor cooking and dining space underneath the tree house.  

The first structure doesn't need to be big because we will be outside except to sleep. We have an overwhelming amount of work to do. My friend, Bev, has already volunteered herself, a chainsaw and two home brews. And basically, that's what happens first. A whole lotta underbrush to clear. You know that saying, "You can't see the forest for the trees?" Take that expression literally, and you have an idea about where this land adventure will start.

In the meantime, this is Austin

It's a little stressful to think my tiny little courtyard, in Austin, went from this:

To this:

In such a short time. So imagine what twelve acres of virgin post oak and cedar trees is like. Multiply my stress by thick, thirsty yaupon and kudzo.  Now top it off with me just dropping the rest of my sandwich down my shirt and onto the floor.

The Cabin Fever is off the charts, y'all.