Part of why my writing here has been more sporadic is that I’ve been working on the little projects of getting more self-sufficient. Getting a truck, fixing the truck (as I talked about in the post just before this one), building a little woodshed out of saplings and tarps, splitting wood to fill it. Another part, though, is that I’ve been laying the groundwork for my next big project. I’m starting a magazine.
A few months ago, I found myself with a sudden longing to get a little truck. I know: it was a surprise to me too.
My partner Misty is moving up to the Chequamegon Bay. The news here isn’t that we’re getting back together—we never entirely broke up—but that Misty is moving house in the middle of a global pandemic.
Back in August, when I started recounting my summer here, I was playing a little trick on myself. Since summer of 2017, I had been meaning to write something about the traditional Ojibwe fast that I went on that May. But at the time, I found it just too big a project to tackle, and I punted it. This past May, I went on another fast, and I knew that if I promised to tell about my entire summer, I would eventually force myself to write about the summer’s fast, which in turn would make me tell about my fast in 2017.