Weekly Update: 10.26.25
Tears pricked my eyes as I leaned against the tent wall, holding it up while my dad removed the last supporting piece of lumber. Once the board was detached, we laid the section of wall on the floor and started disassembling it. The process, long planned, was surprisingly emotional.
Our tent no longer belonged to us. As of Tuesday, we sold it to a sweet family getting ready to start their own homesteading adventure. After looking at the very wet weather in the forecast, our family spent Wednesday and Thursday cleaning out and taking down our home of two years. We deconstructed the frame into pieces that were small enough to manage, but large enough to make reassembly simple for the new owners.
As I once again pushed away the threatening tears, I reflected on why taking down the tent was so difficult. In part, I think it was because that tent was the fruit of so many decades of dreams. We had wanted a wall tent for years, and then we finally got to live in one. Now, that dream is behind us.
But along with that simple reason, I think for us, our tent was symbolic of the first joy of our adventure. Living in the tent was novel and interesting, providing all of us with an experience unlike any other. The tent was uncomfortable in ways that tested our strength and fortitude — leading to feelings of exhilaration when we overcame various obstacles. And what is more, living in a tent is mere millimeters away from living in nature, connecting us with our land in a visceral sense. Tent living was like living steeped in our lifelong dream.
In so many ways, moving into the bunkhouse should feel the same — but there are ways that moving into the bunkhouse is like coming back to modernity and civilization. Life is more convenient — but it also becomes more complex, with more to clean and organize. In certain ways, it is more comfortable, so we have all noticed how much more time we spend indoors. The tent was so small, we all spent as much time outside as weather would allow. Once the heat of summer arrived this year, we found ourselves sheltering in the air conditioning. In hindsight, we missed all the summer afternoons of previous years, spent in the relative cool of our forest shade.
Life is also noisier in the bunkhouse. The constant hum of appliances mutes the subtle sounds of the world outside. More people staying inside means more people sounds. And when the people are quiet, there is often a television or music on somewhere.
None of these realities make living in the bunkhouse unpleasant. I love our bunkhouse. It’s the next step toward our ultimate goal, providing a more permanent shelter while building tiny homes and cabins for each single or couple among us. It will be a blessing this winter especially, when we are always forced to spend time inside. Still, I find it’s easier to get bogged down with life’s monotony these days.
It took us months to put up our tent. We were driving from Springfield on weekends at the time, adjusting our tent frame plans as we went along. Winter weather often slowed us down, stretching the project long past what should have been necessary.
We took the tent apart in just two days. We talked about our feelings while we worked, discussing what we missed already about life in the tent. Removing the frame was the big job. Taking down the tent itself took less than an hour. As we rolled up the canvas, we found our eyes soaking in the western horizon — now visible from our deck as well as our bunkhouse windows. We talked about all the fun we will have on the large porch — eating dinners, playing games, lounging in chairs and hammocks while reading.
We also talked about the future and our desire to not let the relative comfort of the bunkhouse lull us into complacency. We have so many homestead projects in the works, and we don’t want to get distracted. Instead, we want to be intentional about our time, spending it in ways that will keep us connected to our dreams and goals. We hope to spend more time outdoors now that the weather is finally cool. As we finish up the bunkhouse, we want to start seriously thinking about the next phase of our homestead. Winter’s long nights are perfect for dreaming and drafting plans.
It was emotional to take down our tent, but it gave us all so much joy to know it will be instrumental in helping another family achieve their own dreams. God blessed us richly during our years in the tent, and I am glad he will continue using the tent to bless His people.
Late this week, our sister-in-law Erin’s younger sister flew in for a weeklong visit. The last couple days were full of laughter, chatting, and catching up around the bunkhouse. All the rain kept us inside, which we didn’t mind after such a crazy week. Our dad ordered parts to hopefully fix our tractor. He and Jeremiah inspected firearms in preparation for the upcoming turkey and deer seasons. We set up a new trail camera a couple weeks ago, and we were excited to view a few images from our spring. The cozy weekend was the perfect end to a crazy week.
As this week draws to a close, we all find ourselves stopping to look out our windows more, soaking in the autumn colors and unobstructed horizon. The views make the bunkhouse seem bigger somehow, even on rainy days when so many of us are cooped up inside. Just outside the windows, our land waits to be shaped into what it will one day be. Our adventure is, indeed, still just beginning. There is so much more to look forward to.
