The trouble with living in a yurt in the lengthening days with three children is that it doesn’t get dark. Bedtime has become a complete shambles with torturous mucking about and other shenanigans. After several weeks of all of them being up way too late and unable to get up for school without endless hassling (NOT how I like to start the day) I finally had a desperate brainwave. I rigged up a throw to lessen the light from the wheel overhead. It does help but it’s not ideal, mainly because the roof is so high we have to balance at the top of the ladder to tie/untie the fixing points otherwise it’s just a bit too dark during the day. And I am a light-seeker.
So I have a vague plan forming, some kind of string pulley system tied onto the corners of the throw and rigged over the roof poles to raise and lower as necessary. I guess it’s like guy ropes in reverse. With the sudden change in weather (ie no more snow and definite signs of spring) we are often reaching cray-zee temperatures in here – we hit 82 F this weekend. As a result, we are becoming very able at pulling back the raincap and letting the heat out of the top of the yurt. It’s very effective and we have figured out where to tie it back to (so it doesn’t blow off completely should a sudden gust arrive).
Homework is getting done (the last purple leaves say “saw-a-castle-fullstop”)
The lovely builders shifted my tubs of tulips from in the midst of the chaos by the house (where they were surrounded by sacks and metal wires and junk) down to the peaceful serenity of the yurt.
The beauty of living in a yurt in the longer days, for me, is being in the outsideness of the field. The wild nights of winter seem (fingers crossed) like a thing of the past, for now at least. The stars are incredible on a clear night. We hear the owls calling each other, the dawn chorus in all its voluble glory, the river running comfortably (as opposed to a loud and furious, relentless torrent). The hopes I had of us living down the field and able to get on with outside jobs seems to be happening. The chainsawing is happening every few weeks, splitting of the rounds from the recently-felled trees by the house is gently ongoing. Somehow a whole layer of unproductive busyness has vanished. I know a lot of that busyness was the endless effort of trying to tidy the chaotic house, to no avail, which I don’t miss at all. We still can’t find things but mostly it doesn’t matter. The really important things are strategically placed (and mostly hidden from the lightfingered children – axes, saws, matches, chocolate, gin, beer etc). The piles of excellent den-building materials abound in huge piles around the field, waiting to be burnt. We will shortly have to retrieve planks from the neighbouring farmer’s trees (“but its going to be a brilliant treehouse”) as he is about to move his cows down the hill for the first time since last August. Falling planks could cause a nasty bovine injury. We saw this particular farmer yesterday and he said he’d only just finished re-seeding the field he’d started last August. That’s how wet its been.
The best junk/feral kids playing moment was when they took the old bath and paddled it downriver with the old floorboards. In fact it’s been so much fun, sailing the bath has become a regular activity.
And a tree-swing went up at the weekend, swinging you out across the river!
The middle one has taken possession of it, having helped Gigman attach it to the branch. He is slowly learning there is more fun to be had if he shares it with his sisters. Slowly.