kalvin dot life

Mysterious happenings on the farm these days.

My only coworker, a rather witchy young lady with a predilection toward the occult, has raised some concerns about the location we’re in. Now I’d classify myself as fully residing in the practical, testable, scientific, atheistic realm (I asked whether the study she described on how ’emoting at water changed it’s molecular configuration’ was peer reviewed), but with the night brings the unknown, and there’s still much to be learned.

This woman of the metaphysical persuasion has placed the usual salt rock crystals and polished rose quartz around our lunch quarters, which along with the ferns and lilies has created a pleasant homey ambiance for my part. But according to her, she’s begun to find the aura of the room a bit unnerving. I’ve found the amount of mouse feces unnerving and am steadfastly feeding the cats sardines to get them on my side of the battle, but there might be some battles you can’t wage with omegas and feline friendship.

After moving into my tent I hammered some crude crates together to store wood for the stove and made a small bedside table. I strung up some drying lines and brought in a small desk to set the laptop up on. On the whole, with a small foam mattress and some wool blankets, it’s quite cozy. Combined with white noise from the creek all night it’s practically ideal. Downstream things don’t seem to be going so well.

A short jaunt away from where I’m set up is a grove of pines with a nice camping area underneath. This is where I set up my personal tent when I first got here and I found the available bed of pine needles exquisite. I didn’t concern myself with much else. My convivial coworker and I traded spots when setting up the permanent tents and a few nights after switching she inquired whether I’d felt anything strange while I slept there. I had nothing to report besides mouse eaten boots and a wet spot on the southern side. But after several discussions, she’s convinced there’s some bad history in the area.

These discussions come a day after our hosts informed me of a terrible series of massacres, perpetrated by white settlers, of the indigenous people who lived here when the gold rush begab. I haven’t followed up with the books they mentioned, have to finish Elliot Coleman’s New Organic Grower and then the tattered manual on How to Beat the War on Drugs I found in the lunch quarters, but I’ll report back if there’s anything known about the region. I suggested keeping a hatchet in her tent, just for kicks. I have one in mine, allegedly for splitting kindling, and it provides a certain amount of comfort when you’re too far away from anyone to hear you yell, and even if you did the stream would swallow it with a snicker.

Yet to be sure, the stream isn’t loud enough to blot out noises directly nearby. The first night I set my tent up, and pounded the eight inch rebar stakes in, something ripped one out at about 10pm and flung it six feet over, shaking the tent in the process. I suspected a deer, elk, or bear (especially likely) tripping over it as the line is located in a common throughway. Most nights I hear things trampling by. They could be the wolf-dog making the rounds or other wild quadrapeds. Living outdoors enough, often without any tent, it doesn’t phase me.

But last night phased me. I’m an extremely light sleeper once I get out of the initial long deep sleep cycles early in the night. Last night I woke up, checked my watch, 3:02, and laid with my eyes open for a short time. A minute later, I heard footsteps. I couldn’t tell if they were two legged or four legged, but I stayed quiet and still. And along with the footsteps, a subtle light through the canvas of the tent slowly passing nearby. It was faint, but near, and didn’t bob or jitter. Just faded in and faded out with the footsteps.

Immediately after this I spent a short time considering. Animal, human, other? Eventually I threw in the towel and took my Nepali friends advice on spirits: they can’t interact with the world and thus can’t hurt you. When I asked him what he’d do if they could interact, he said that would be a different story and the topic was dropped.

Could it have been a reflection of the moon off antlers? It was a brightly lit night. Could it have been someone with a headlamp, my coworker making a bathroom run at the witching hour? Seem’s unlikely, my tent is on a different trail. I’m hesitant to ask though. Stay tuned for further developments, I’ll keep my third eye open for any sightings.

Also, I’m going to grad school.