The desert, as an entity unto itself, in its wholeness, does not believe in disguise. It wears no mask. This is what I like most about the desert. I look out on the land here and see it for exactly what it is: thrumming with life, dry and blistering and bristling, thorny, wrinkled and rumpled, hard hearted and brilliant with beauty. There are no games here. There is no facade I must recognize and surmount in order to comprehend the root and tooth of the place. The land here is naked and vulnerable despite everything that bites, prickles and stings. I have never taken this for granted, being able to read a desert like a book. I don’t mean this space isn’t complicated and worthy of exploration and study, I just mean it makes itself plain to the seeing eye — it’s a quality I appreciate.
I can trust in the character of the land here, in the way it presents itself. The sky is broad, the ground is sun and wind calloused; somewhere between the two I exist and remain — inconsequential and delicate. No small violence is unexpected, no broad beauty is beyond belief. The desert owns exactly what it is, unabashedly, unapologetically. I move through it accordingly.
We’re living in a straw bale house on the edge of the Snake River in south central Idaho right now. It’s a beautiful, humble life. Every morning we wake up with the sun, make tea and coffee, build breakfast, make a plan for the day, and then go out and live. We hunt quail in the morning, swap out a tired dog for a fresh dog and hunt chukar all afternoon, until the sun goes down, then we head home to our little straw bale house and make dinner, pour a glass of wine, mix a gin and tonic, light the Christmas tree and talk and read until we feel tired enough to go to sleep.
We don’t have an internet connection.
We haven’t a television.
We have a 3G phone connection if we stand in a certain part of the house.
This is our version of a holiday — reverting to a simple life, doing the things we love on a daily basis, eating when we are hungry, taking some of our food from the land, watching the ducks, herons and hawks with a pair of binoculars from a chair by a warm fire. We walk out in the sage to collect bones, we daydream aloud about what future we might make for ourselves and where that future might be.
We rented this house because we’ve always wanted to rent this house and have been watching it for a few years now, hoping to enjoy its simple comforts for a month or two in the heart of winter, in the heart of the off-season, in the heart of upland country.
We are also renting this house because of its proximity to the land we have been hunting and learning and knowing since we moved to Idaho in 2008. These are our stomping grounds. We treasure the Snake River plain and always have. We treasure the rim rock rising up from a ribbon of blue, this rugged country that holds game birds, this wild country that opens our hearts, this heartless country that promises to swallow us whole every time we step out in it.
We love this country.
We have carefully budgeted our lives and monies for months to come in a way that allows us to live this way. We aren’t lucky but we are blessed. Even a blind man could tell you that. We have another fire season coming. We have a house to sell. We have life transitions galore to tackle, unravel and sort out.
We are here to practice togetherness and every day we find each other a little better, every day we find each other a little more.
Well. Amen to that, dear sister of the earth. xx
This brings a sting of a tear to my eye.
The seasons of life – oh how they can wallop a soul if one is not careful to take the time to properly transition.
You are wise to gift yourself with this time. A lesson I am yet learning – as one always on the go and looking forward to the next change, the next event, the next move I occasionally get set upon my heels with the realization that I’m missing today and all it offers both with the loves in my life and with the efforts that I spent yesterday.
To find a balance within myself … this I must work on.
a perfect tale of the land and of love.
a perfect tale of life lived simply and well.
snake river country looks good on you, dear friend.
xx
Practicing togetherness is such a beautiful expression. After all, we’re all just practicing life daily, we may as well focus our practice on the heart. Wonderful post, enjoy your stay in your straw bale house. Thank you for sharing a little bit of it with us.
Oh… you are selling your house. Didn’t know…may be I missed a post… Hope you sell it and that you will find another one where ever that will be and wish you happiness there. And I wish “us, your readers, your followers” more photographs, more stories, more jewelery, more of your beautiful life of the two beautiful people that you are. Happy holidays in the straw bale house!!!!!
Oh I lived with a man who did not ‘see with his eyes’ for a few years, and I can tell you, he could hear beauty and blessings in every minute corner of breath! I hear the wind blowing across my beloved high desert in the gorgeous post….I am excited for you! peace and love,K
Wow girl…WOW.
Aren’t you in love with everything right now!! That land, the thorns, the rim & the river and THAT MAN! Gracious sakes. You are getting your rewards.
The imagery and this particular piece of writing tells a powerful story. And I get it.
I wish for you even more wildness in the coming days, while you wrap yourselves up in that endless desert. (Oh, I would give anything right now to be in the desert!)
This journey you guys are on, may it never end. And if I know you, I’m pretty sure it won’t.
xx
Egads, buy that house! BUY that house! It is what I picture for you, water, and lots of your beloved Idaho at your doorstep. Enjoy your time.
May many blessings and good things come your way! Happy New House and Happy New Year!
Here’s hoping that wherever you land next, it fills your soul the way this place does. As always – your perspective is inspiring. Bless you both and Joyous Holidays.
an honest life indeed.
merry and bright to you and yours as the solstice draws near (though I fancy the days just before the solstice the most).
I love it. I hope you are having the happiest of holidays and cannot wait to see what is next for you two! It will be glorious, as ever, you beautiful beings.
Incredibly beautiful…
As always you have my gratitude for sharing your lovely captures of these fantastic places. Truly one of my greatest loves is the wild and natural earth in all its glories. When I was kid I was the first in my house to grab the newest National Geographic fresh from the mailbox, eager to scan the pictures of this world. Great photographers have always brought me to places that I might not see in person but I was taken there and given a taste through their work. I count you in as one of those delivering to me these experiences.
So you are selling your home and ready to set off for a new chapter. How exciting….and also a bit stressful I know. My hubby and I are also likely about to embark on a new journey and I feeling both excited and the doubts that come along with big changes. Ahhh…but such is life. It is adventure and as such has thrills and chills. Ups and downs. Good fortune to you and yours. Happy Holidays!
Thank you for the bright photos and images : ). Distraction-free is distraction-free is simple freedom, yes? I wish you all the beautiful best in 2015…
Dearest Jillian,
Once I again I am struck, as I often am, by the simple beauty and earnest living you and Robert create. I love that you make clear yours is not a gifted, given blessed life – it’s one that you and Robert work for, earn, and cherish every moment of. I always understand, through your words, that these beautifully captured moments are earned through chosen sacrifices and that you both work towards curating and crafting a life worth living. It reminds me to do things with purpose, because such beauty can be obtained this way. Thank you for the reminder once again.
Enjoy your holiday, I wish you, Robert and those darling dogs of yours, a very merry holiday season.
xoxo,
Cathy
Sending you love + big skies + deep moments of quiet. Your most recent post doesn’t seem to have comments enabled… but it moved me, especially the last few lines: “We are here to practice togetherness and every day we find each other a little better, every day we find each other a little more.” These words resonate deeply. These words I know.
xo,
Christina
Wait a cotton-picking-minute…is that a Hudson Bay robe? What the what???