I am so in love with my 30-acre Wood. I’ve always adored this particular piece of land, always found it to touch me somehow. But the more time I spend on it, the more I never want to leave it. I am a little confused and baffled by how good I feel just being on this piece of land. I’m not disturbed by this, just struck.

The place is full of treasure and treats. I found this little nest today at the base of this sagebrush. The nest is barely two inches in diameter, and the seeds that line it are the same as those in some grasses that had grown up through the sage, so I’m deducing that the nest had been built in this bush.

The bush itself, my brother says is a real sagebrush plant, and I have found only one other (tiny plant) on my 30 acre wood. This sagebrush is a very decrepit and gnarly plant, but I love it.

So, and anyway. I found the wee nest while I was carrying a couple of chairs from my “summer house” over to the place I’ve chosen as the future site of the building that will be my art studio. I selected the site last summer/fall, but have been visiting it a different times to see how things change there seasonally–most importantly, the path of the sun and how the light arrives on the site.

I tromped around and placed some broken-off tree limbs at the possible corners of my building. And then I stood for awhile looking. And then I sat and thought.

But my jeans were soon damp from sitting on the ground, which is when I decided to bring over a real chair so I could sit some more.

Which I did. Staring at the trees and watching the clouds and occasionally walking the pretend perimeter of the future studio. (By the way, I am not building a house, because I’m not up for spending thousands of dollars to install a septic system and dig a real well.)

By the time I left (only because I was too hungry to stay), I was pretty certain that the site I’d chosen last year is indeed the site upon which I want to build. To the south, there is a stand of aspen among tamarack and fir. To the east, the rock hill rises, and the sky is lovely in the mornings. To the north, tall, old fir trees, which will provide some shelter from winter cold and wind. And to the west, a view to the rock mountain across the valley, all framed by old aspen and young fir trees.

Overall, the site allows light and has lovely views all around, yet is tucked back off the open areas so a building won’t be glaringly visible from other parts of the woods. And, there will be some protection from the wind that likes to howl sometimes on this little mountainside. Also important, is that the neighboring hillside that some ass-hat clear-cut, is not readily visible. It’s a sweet spot.

Now, to see if my contractor (my brother :) approves of the site.

It is about nine thirty at night, very dark and zero degrees outside. The dog has cajoled me into coming outside to play his game, which is kind of a one-sided Pickle in the Middle–where he runs around with his ratty stuffed gorilla in his teeth and we both pretend that I am chasing him to get it. As if! my two-legged human “agility” could have anything on a four-legged Australian Shepherd–a clever breed whose leaps and swerves are genetically programmed to contend with the unpredictable maneuvers of wandering sheep.

Anyway. He’s convinced me to come out and have a round of Gorilla in the Middle, and I’m giving it my best, stumbling in the frozen-crust snow, in the dark. I can’t say that it is “pitch black” out, because above the charcoal gray of the snowbanks, I can see the pitch black silhouettes of the pine trees, against the backdrop of a babillion glowing stars.

Well, I am well-bundled-up against the cold, and really the occasional tumble and fall in the dark isn’t a big deal, but after fifteen minutes or so, I’ve done enough chasing. I plunk myself onto a snowbank on the incline of the hillside, and indulge in those pine tree silhouettes, and the stars above them.

It is all very nice.

And then. And then I start composing in my head, like I can sum this up for Twitter or Facebook. My mind gets all mental, and I am no longer just experiencing the crisp temperatures and the glory of the night sky. I am (dammit) thinking about it.

Great.

So much for that perfect place and time.