Wyoming real estate

Some places oppose me, like Wyoming, so that I have to find what is extraordinary in me just to survive, and just to survive is to be successful in living.

The opposition is in the form of forces much greater than myself--real weather that can change in a moment, a distance from town that makes me think at least twice before going, wind that can blow the doors off their hinges.

When I'm living in Wyoming I almost always ask myself the question, 'why am I living here?' I ask the question at least once a day. The pilot light on the water heater goes out, a valve freezes, a rat's gnawed through the insulation on the front door.

One time I was all alone in the cabin for weeks. It was winter, February. One night the electricity went off--the transformer that serves the six houses on our side of the mountain blew a fuse. No lights, no heat, no hot water. I thought about driving into Cody and getting a hotel room, and threw some things into an overnight bag.

I don't know what stopped me. The dark. The incredible silence. The stars in the sky. I don't know, I still don't know. All I know is that I stayed in the cabin. I made a big fire in the fireplace and pulled the chair close to it, wrapped up in every blanket I could find, and read the books I'd brought with me from California until I couldn't read anymore. Then I got into bed and went to sleep.

After a day or two, the electricity was restored. I'd gone through an amazing amount of firewood, finished reading two big books, and drunk gallons of herbal tea. Supplies were low. I'd have to go into town soon, but I really didn't want to. I wanted the electricity to go dark again, I wanted to stay inside the cabin and keep warm by trying to bring out all the light inside myself, I welcomed the feeling of living in a place that was against me.