When we purchased our home almost three years ago, I knew living in a small mountain town was going to be a big change. It was a dream come true for my husband. He had always wanted the pace of life that mountain living provides. On the other hand I had always considered myself more of a city person but also someone who was always up for a new adventure. I quickly fell in love with the house and three acres of land. I envisioned the fun my young children would have exploring the forest. My husband asked me several times if I was sure about the move. He reminded me that it would be isolating. He reminded me that it would be a forty-five minute drive to the nearest big-box store or Starbucks. I told him I had Amazon Prime and a coffee pot. I told him I would be fine. More than fine, I told him I would love it.
Looking back, there was no doubt I was talking myself into mountain mothering. I saw the way my husband’s face lit up as we were settling in. He was in his element. I watched my children explore their new surroundings and I longed for their excitement. My family was home. But honestly, in that first year I was faking it. I felt disconnected and out of my element. Growing up we used our fireplace for ambiance. Now the wood burning stove in our new house was the primary source of heat. What if my children burned themselves? Regular trashcans no longer did the trick. To keep the bears out, we had to buy a bear proof can. I had no idea something like that existed. What if the bears got frustrated and decided to find a way to get in the house for food? What about mountain lion attacks and what is a wolverine anyway? I thought there must be an app that would tell me everything I needed to know about keeping children alive and safe in the mountains. While I was at it I would find an app for what to do when mountain lions attack. Problem solved. And then it wasn’t because there was no cell signal in our remote home location. Actually, I could get one bar if I stood at the front door one arm raised, not moving or breathing. Knowledge at the tip of my fingers was out of reach or should I say, out of network. I realized quickly that my new life, a life that was supposed to be peaceful and simplistic was being hijacked by fear.
One desperate afternoon I made my way to the bathroom to cry and feel sorry for myself. With two preschoolers under foot, the bathroom had become my go-to cry it out space. I sat on the floor and started thumbing through a Colorado Springs family magazine. There the ad was. A new charter Waldorf school would be opening soon. They were offering parent/child classes and a homeschool enrichment program. If I couldn’t take my family out of the forest, I could get involved with an educational program that teaches how nature enriches learning. For the past year our weekly 45 minute drive to attend this school has been my lifeline.
My children have no idea what a smartphone is. When they want to talk to Grandma, Skype is not an option. We call her the old fashioned way on something called a telephone. Meals are prepared at home and my children are unaware that pizza delivery can be a quick dinner fix. I’ve often wondered how my choices would be different if technology and conveniences were within reach. I think I know the answer. That’s why I’m so grateful that this life chose me. Baking at 9,494 feet is no simple task. There are days when the bread doesn’t rise but in spite of that I’m learning to rise to the occasion. It’s taken some time but I’m learning to love this mountain life, bears and all.
