Gogo-an has been a going concern for three years and may be for another three to five. In five years, if I'm around, I'll be seventy-five and not very able to keep up a rural mini-farm. Work has continued at Daughter's urban house to provide for food production and a measure of "self-sufficiency" so that, should those of the family long in the tooth need to sell out and occupy a refuge in town, said refuge will have been adapted to meet some of their needs as well as those of any others involved.
I've enjoyed part-time hermit work and would like to continue doing it awhile longer. Watching the sun stream in through the eastern window, throwing the shadows of trees on the walls, has been a large part of this work.
At La Finca, the contemplated location-to-be, diverse aims must be accommodated. Renters occupy a studio (projected to later become Son's abode). The covered area out back was spacious but exposed to winter winds, and could provide, with some modification, a room for storage for the renter (projected to later contain the composting potty), for example. We have tried, with each new idea, to meet multiple needs.
The collapsing little tool shed at the end of the former collapsing carport has, for the last three years, also met renters' needs, but I saw in it a potential replacement for Gogo-an. Bit by bit, often working around piles of other people's belongings, I roofed it, let in a little more light, and used its abandoned furnishings as shop tables for the various projects. Fruit trees, meanwhile, have been strategically placed to eventually filter the sunlight at the eastern window that has been so crucial to my inner learning curve.
Exterior work has been easier to access, so I have been updating the building to match the house.
I have moved in a table for a desk/kitchen counter. It was my grandmother's, and family members used to tell me that I collided with it while tearing around her house on a scooter in 1950 and pitched quite a fit about the pain. Welcome to the world, little one.
Morning light, streaming in through the eastern window, already looks pretty good to me. For the time being, though, if I want dappled shade, I must take up my sticks and go for a walk round the heavily treed neighborhood and nearby parks.
That's okay; I can wait! The Japanese name of the hut means, loosely, "sufficient." It does not necessarily mean "expectations will be met." Something lovely may come of this adventure, or it may not. All things always change.
Beauty is the convenient and traditional name of something which art and nature share, and which gives a fairly clear sense to the idea of quality of experience and change of consciousness. I am looking out of my window in an anxious and resentful state of mind, oblivious of my surroundings, brooding perhaps on some damage done to my prestige. Then suddenly I observe a hovering kestrel. In a moment everything is altered. The brooding self with its hurt vanity has disappeared. There is nothing now but kestrel. -- Iris Murdoch
...recognize the functional value of structures as tools and vehicles, but... also recognize their temporary nature and refrain from attachment to them even while using them. -- Thomas Cleary, Introduction, The Book of Serenity
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| Gogo-an in its current form |
At La Finca, the contemplated location-to-be, diverse aims must be accommodated. Renters occupy a studio (projected to later become Son's abode). The covered area out back was spacious but exposed to winter winds, and could provide, with some modification, a room for storage for the renter (projected to later contain the composting potty), for example. We have tried, with each new idea, to meet multiple needs.
The collapsing little tool shed at the end of the former collapsing carport has, for the last three years, also met renters' needs, but I saw in it a potential replacement for Gogo-an. Bit by bit, often working around piles of other people's belongings, I roofed it, let in a little more light, and used its abandoned furnishings as shop tables for the various projects. Fruit trees, meanwhile, have been strategically placed to eventually filter the sunlight at the eastern window that has been so crucial to my inner learning curve.
Exterior work has been easier to access, so I have been updating the building to match the house.
Progress has been made. The shop, consisting of three of the junked bits of furniture, has been at least temporarily relocated into the now half-enclosed patio.
I have moved in a table for a desk/kitchen counter. It was my grandmother's, and family members used to tell me that I collided with it while tearing around her house on a scooter in 1950 and pitched quite a fit about the pain. Welcome to the world, little one.
Morning light, streaming in through the eastern window, already looks pretty good to me. For the time being, though, if I want dappled shade, I must take up my sticks and go for a walk round the heavily treed neighborhood and nearby parks.
That's okay; I can wait! The Japanese name of the hut means, loosely, "sufficient." It does not necessarily mean "expectations will be met." Something lovely may come of this adventure, or it may not. All things always change.
Beauty is the convenient and traditional name of something which art and nature share, and which gives a fairly clear sense to the idea of quality of experience and change of consciousness. I am looking out of my window in an anxious and resentful state of mind, oblivious of my surroundings, brooding perhaps on some damage done to my prestige. Then suddenly I observe a hovering kestrel. In a moment everything is altered. The brooding self with its hurt vanity has disappeared. There is nothing now but kestrel. -- Iris Murdoch
...recognize the functional value of structures as tools and vehicles, but... also recognize their temporary nature and refrain from attachment to them even while using them. -- Thomas Cleary, Introduction, The Book of Serenity
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Stony Run Farm: Life on One Acre