Peach Road

It was a wild idea. The kids were grown and living lives of their own all over the country. Why not make our escape from the drum of urban life? The heavy energy weighing heavier each year. The demands of work, mortgage and responsibility never seem to lighten. Life had become more about what we have than who we are. This reality had allowed a sadness to seep in.

Wild idea? Yes. We bought twenty acres of rural property. When I say rural, I meant R-U-R-A-L. Eighteen miles outside a small, rural farming town with a population of just over 300. A sea of wheat fields as far as the eye can see. A sweet, rich green in the spring turning to cherished amber waves of grain in late July. At the end of the pavement, there is a sign that reads, Primitive Road No Warning Signs. This is where the weight of the world sloughs off of me. The Ponderosa pines, the crunch of the decomposed granite road with its warm, welcoming golden tone. I transform as I drive the two miles past a now vacant ranch house, barns, and abandoned farm equipment from days gone by. The deteriorated remains of a homestead built in the Western Territory before statehood was bestowed on this land.

We are older now, but life out here will keep one young. We bought raw land. Nothing but dirt. Dirt and sagebrush. The pine trees end a mile down the dirt road. Beyond the pines, the land begins to drop toward the river. Not conducive to farming or much else, this land has avoided industrial evolution. The only evidence of our time is the single power line that runs along the road and across the north border of our land.

In the beginning, we had a simple cabin. Really, it was just a small shed. No power, no water, no toilet. Well, we had a toilet but many would describe it as a bucket. The cabin kept us safe from the wildlife at night. We share this place with rattlesnakes, scorpions, coyotes, bears, mountain lions and the deer that much of the wildlife are in search of. We spent early weekends clearing sage brush by hand. We eventually installed electric service ourselves. Our second year, we upgraded to a travel trailer which felt luxurious after so much time in the cabin.

A year and a half after receiving the deed to the land we sold just about everything we owned and moved here for good. We moved into our travel trailer with a plan to build our forever home. The wildest part of the idea was building the house ourselves. Needless to say, at our age, many thought we had finally lost our minds.

We have been here for over three years now. We are still living in the trailer but the house is standing. The exterior is finished. My minds eye can see the finished interior. To have this goal, of one day living in a home built by the two of us, together, is more than enough in this life. There are days we work so hard. Other days are just enjoyed. Every bit of progress is felt deep in my soul with a sense of pride and accomplishment. Maybe that is what I needed in this life.

As we develop our homestead and build our home, we enjoy the solitude of life out here. One unanticipated aspect of this life was the community. There are five other people, in four households, that found their home along this three-and-a-half mile stretch of dead-end dirt road. There is a significant physical distance between us all that live here. All these neighbors are closer to the age of our parents and have lived here for many years. They have welcomed us. With these neighbors, we have become a small community. We share the work of maintaining the private road. We gather for weekly meals and drinks. We support each other and come to each other’s aide. This community is the family I have never known. This dirt road, Peach Road, is my hometown, population 7.