The Continuing Adventures of the Lykosh Clan

Saturday afternoon we left our haven at the Doug Bushes and went to buy seed. Unexpectedly, the man at the seed store told us not to buy seed, that the time to plant is not for another month (due to hot August weather), and that the first thing we need to do is get a soil test. I was so taken aback, we left without anything and drove to see the last working pole ferry in the country. It was not running, due to low water, so we drove to the Bessettes for some moral support. What are we supposed to be doing for the next month, if we can’t plant? Should we get pigs or goats?

Absolutely not, said Dennis Bessette. Don’t get animals until you have fencing. And we have no fencing at all, and no water for the animals anyway, so it’s good that cooler heads prevailed. We all enjoyed the Bessette pool (even water-hating Abraham got in eventually!), and Dennis asked if Isaiah had an IQ pushing 200, because he asked so many questions, so articulately. Dennis also ordered Isaiah not to cry when he got water in his eyes, and since Dennis probably has a 3 or a 4 as the first number in his weight, that’s a bit intimidating, and probably good for Isaiah.

Dennis also told Phil that, if he tries to go the route of the pioneers, I would spent 50% of my time getting the food prepared for Phil’s meals, and 50% of my time doing other farm-like stuff. Phil would spend 75% of his time getting feed for the animals, and the other 25% maintaining the farm. And the farm would be a small house, with a dirt floor for several years, because there is no time to put in a real floor. Not such a good life. So we will probably get a chainsaw, and save the crosscut saw for another day or life.

On Sunday, we read much of Holes in the tent. The reality of having no surfaces to walk or crawl on was weighing in on me: any time we were on the land, the baby was on my back, or I was in the tent with him. That’s tiring after a while! And there was absolutely nothing to do: no seeding, no visiting, no food prep, nothing. It was a bit depressing.

Monday, Phil got up early and went to buy seed anyway, as well as a seed broadcaster, a wheelbarrow, and a sprayer, so we can water out soil amendments. The first store he went to had the seed, and they called their competitor (our Saturday store) to see if the competitor had the broadcaster and sprayer—both of which they did. Perfect. We drove into Charlottesville for the electrical permit, which Phil got in a short time, then stopped at Chipotle (glory!) and on to Whole Foods. We were pleased on the drive back to have the drive take only a bit more than half an hour! So much more manageable than the time we went in October! And how wonderful to have half our dirt road paved right before we arrived—it’s a much faster drive, and better for our car, too.

The pad was just about done when we returned home Monday night. The boys ran up and down our new gravel driveway, and the fireflies flickered and we basked in our Virginia paradise. A definite high moment.


Tuesday we left the land about 8am to go to Richmond, almost two hours away. Sonlighters were having a pool party, so we enjoyed meeting about ten forum ladies and their families with lots and lots of girls. Phil helped barbecue the burgers, and it was a good thing, because he knew how to grill. I asked one of the ladies who loves to pray to please pray for me: I have been waking up for several hours most nights, begging the Lord to sell our house, begging him to provide for us. She prayed a sweet prayer that the Lord would bless us and the buyers, and then asked if God had anything to say to us. I heard nothing, but she said, “I’m hearing that you have a lot of fear. I’m going to pray against this fear, and that this would be a time of great faith-building, that you would look back on this and say, ‘Our faith would have been less robust without that time.’” This was a good confirmation for me, since, as I pray, that is what I hear, too, but our situation has been so much the same for so long, I was starting to wonder if I was hearing correctly.

We dropped him off at the Richmond airport, hit Costco on the way out of town (we stocked up on non-perishables: peanut butter, tuna, olive oil, maple syrup), and then drove and drove and drove home, just the five of us plus Chloe. I made hotdogs from Costco, and Michelle Bessette dropped off goat milk and granola for our breakfast, and just to check on us. So nice!

At this point, I feel like Virginia is home: it’s comfy. I have friends. If I am lonely, I have places to go. The people are polite (“I would humbly [or heartily—either way, it sounds genteel] appreciate it if you could give me a call back”).

Today is Wednesday, and the first of our two construction trailers came today. The man left at 5:45am to deliver it by 9am, and he spent probably over two hours setting it: putting concrete blocks underneath, tying it down, which means placing straps underneath that go into the dirt—usually accomplished with electricity, but today he had to do it by hand. Poor Jimmy! That was a hard job, and he was hot when he was done. He backed that trailer into place so expertly, I asked how long he had been doing it. Twenty-six years, and the largest he’s delivered was 14’ by 75’ (our is 8’ by 28’ of living space, with a four-foot hitch), driving around the D.C. area. I’m thankful not to have his job.

Then the set-backs started. I don’t know how to set the trailer in place tomorrow, and the man I’ve called with a bulldozer, which should help position the trailer, has not called back. So cancel that delivery, I suppose. Phil lost his phone in the airport (I sort of think it was stolen, since a ringing phone would be pretty obvious, it seems, and the lost and found called to say that no one turned it in). So that’s a couple hundred dollars lost. Our agent called to say that we’ve had four showings since going back on the market, and she’ll meet with Phil on Saturday for the next steps. Whatever. The house is already on the market at $11K below assessed value—how far will she want us to drop it now? And the boys, who were having fun playing on the gravel, threw it on each other and into their hotdogs, which made me lose my temper.

Now we are at the Bessettes, where they have a washing machine, a house to play in, electricity for my computer, and toys for the boys. And they lived in a construction trailer for three years—I’m curious how they survived. Maybe theirs was bigger than ours, which is about the same size as my former dining room? I was excited for how much larger than our tent it would be, but after seeing them both, I think it might be not much more than twice as big. And we have a lot of stuff.

So at the moment Virginia does not seem welcoming, but threatening and exhausting.