Chateau de Peveto

Tucked back in the evergreens, around the bend in the road and across the creek is a little place I like to call Chateau de Peveto. I packed my overnight bag, grabbed my hat and drove an hour and a half northwest last Friday to visit my friends, Travis and Heidi. They left sidewalks and front lawns behind about six months ago to start a new life in the wild, with the pine trees, the animals and the mountain folk.

This is Chateau de Peveto.

This is Mr. and Mrs. Peveto, and this creek is in their front yard.

What does one do in a place like this?

First, you breathe. Literally. The air is as clean and fresh as it gets. You might even feel that you as a person are cleaner and smell nicer, unless you sit too long at the soup bar and smell like cafeteria for the rest of the day. 

Second, you breathe. Figuratively. This life is the simple life, and it causes you to breathe slowly and deeply and to notice your surroundings. Most evenings are spent in front of a wood-burning fire with a good book, hot tea, two big dogs putting their noses in your ear (or maybe that was just my ear), and the peaceful company of the one you love. Saturday mornings are slow, with a delicious breakfast made in a sun-soaked kitchen. After the scrambled eggs, bacon and pastry, you could stroll around the property and discuss whether or not you should raise goats, what to do about the fence you want to remove or where to put the ziplines for when the mountain children come along. 

Third, you wake up with the sun no matter how late you fell asleep. But you're excited because you know if you put your feet on the cold floor and walk to the window, the view will be worth it.  You realize that silence is good for you, and that when you're hanging your legs over the barn loft door, everything in life is carefree and happy.

The whole place sings. 

If you want the insider's perspective, read Heidi's thoughts on mountain life here.