It’s been almost 5 full months since I’ve seen anyone in these woods. I miss them; even the crabby ones.
The winter is always so cold and lonely out here. I spend most of my time huddled beneath a marathon blanket that I found at the dump, and my diet consists of meat from a can and expired cheeses. Before snowfall, I picked through the compost pile behind the farmstand, and I was able to scrape together enough ingredients to make myself a solar powered potato lamp, so I have light, as long as it’s not cloudy (which is when I need it most).
I admit I have never been much of a survivalist since I transferred here, but I’ve been learning something new every day. Yesterday, I realized I have a sizable allergy to bag balm as well as a severe phobia of billed birds: ducks, geese, and I presume (despite ever encountering one, swans). We fight for marine territory every other morning when I attempt to bathe in the irrigation pond out front. The shoreline is harsh and dangerous.
I can’t wait for the warmer weather and the stretched days. I long for the sweet smell of the farmstand customers; their joyful giggles and glorious screams around the grounds. Plus, they leave behind the nicest finds. Last season, I acquired an Archie comic book (circa 1985; issue #95), a broken umbrella, two bandanas, and almost a full ream of computer paper.
The springtime will be here soon, and with it, will come more dreaming, building, and creating for all the precious people who will visit The Dark Woods this Halloween season. For now, I will wait. I will wait here, remaining very, very still, preserving heat and avoiding eye contact with the local duck-bully who appears to be staring and hissing at me from afar. Written by Willard on March 29, 2023 from the confines of an unheated shanty located somewhere in the middle of nowhere.