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I actually leaned over and kissed the desk goodbye. I said a silent prayer to the view of the Black Mountains from the porch. And three truck loads plus one station wagon load later, I left the valley.

Yesterday was my first hike in. I parked the Volvo a third of a mile down the mountain and started up, huffing a bit by the end. I must have taken about ten or fifteen minutes, and I greeted the birds along the way, cleared some brush blocking the old road, and gasped time and time again at the view.

And then I was alone. I mean really alone. It’s quiet and spacious up here and I may never have this much privacy again in my life. The ceilings are high and the walls are painted a pleasant stucco-like textured color. The floors are all hardwood and the view is astounding. Pictures will be posted soon. Spring water gushes from the overflow just beyond the porch, which overlooks the lower half of Fork Mountain and the Roan Valley below. There are organic garden beds on the lower portion of the property, and the summit of the mountain above the house. There is a meditation hut, a wood shed, a tool shed, and a fire pit.

The loft is as big as the downstairs of my previous cabin, and the loft will be reserved only for writing and reading. The middle floor is entirely open and includes the kitchen and living room, which is a vast open space right now since I only own about three chairs. The middle floor opens up to a lovely walnut wood staircase that drops you down to the bottom floor, which is a single bedroom. One wall of the bedroom is made entirely of windows, and my first night I lay in bed and could actually make out the entirety of the big dipper from my pillow. WOW!

I’ve unpacked a lot today, and hope to have a writing day with some unpacking breaks in between. More creative and inspired posts to come, I’m sure. This place begs for description, sanctity, patience, and wholesomeness. In other words, tonight I feel like one of the luckiest people on the planet.