theratracejournal.com

My home sits on a 2.42 acre lot, in the country, on a concession road. It is about a 3 hour drive north of Toronto, Ontario, Canada. To say that I live in a remote area is an understatement. Still, I do have electricity, telephone service, and my road is plowed in the winter time. Mind you, even though I’m in no-man’s-land, I am still expected to pay property tax (though it’s a fraction of what I’m used to).

Driving by my mailbox, one could easily assume that there was no house at all on this lot. The driveway goes uphill and veers a sharp left turn from the road. Because of this, and the fact that it is surrounded by trees and overgrowth, only the first 50 feet of laneway is visible from the road.

Driving in a little, the trees open up to reveal a small, dilapidated old house. In fact, the first thing most people wonder, I’m sure, is whether anyone lives here at all. It looks deserted.

A few old buildings populate the edge of the property. Two are pretty much useless due to age and neglect, however, the third still serves as a dry storage area (as long as the contents can’t be chewed by mice and squirrels).

The house is at least 70 years old. Even in those days it was probably considered modest accommodations at best - certainly not extravagant. It is approximately 900 square feet in size, one and a half stories high, 2 bedrooms, 1 bathroom, a dirt floor basement, and a small front porch. Over the years the house has become somewhat skewed and this is quite noticeable when climbing the stairs, walking on the upstairs floor, or closing a door. Is it any wonder the real estate lady assumed I would be demolishing the place?

Still, it seems to be a long way from falling down completely. I’ve done a lot of work to make it as comfortable as possible. Most of it was inexpensive (drywall, painting, plumbing, electrical). However, the water was unfit to drink and the septic tank was beyond repair – major expenses.

Before I moved in, I had to have a new well drilled (there was an old dug well there, but it was unusable), and a new septic tank/bed installed. It was painful to part with that much cash, but I knew that afterwards I’d be able to live very economically in my new surroundings.

The exterior of the structure is nothing to write home about. It has that ugly imitation red brick “shingle material” covering everything except the roof (it’s metal), which is in surprisingly good shape. The walls are probably insulated with sawdust; however, the woodstove in the kitchen seems to be more than enough to heat the place.

I like to think of the overgrown vegetation surrounding the house as natural landscaping. The only thing I cut back were a few bushes that were blocking the windows, the rest, I left natural. This means that there is no lawn to mow and everything simply grows as nature intended. If I did this in the suburbs, I would be reported by neighbours and paid a visit by the municipal bylaw enforcement folks in very short order.

In contrast, the laws governing property appearance and upkeep seem to be non-existent in this township – not that the house can be seen from the road anyway. It just seems that people around here are less pretentious, and a lot more down to earth, than my previous neighbours. My old neighbours would die if they saw the “state” of my residence.

I don’t miss the suburban life. Out here, I can pretty much do what I want. I’ve put in a huge garden (already harvested for this year) that should keep me in vegetables for quite a while. It’s a shame much of it will spoil. Next year, I might take some of it to sell at the local farmer’s market.

I also plan to build an outdoor oven to make my own bread and such. I saw the plans on the net. One of the advantages of having a lot of free time is that I can take on projects like that.

All in all, this way of life, to me, is infinitely more rewarding as well as being much more economical and healthy. I have a lot to learn, however.

As far as my expenses go, the upcoming winter should give me a good idea as to how much money I’ll need to live on. By this time next year, I’ll know how much I’ll need to earn to get by. The rest of the time will be my own. I can’t wait.