For many pagans, when they find their particular 'brand' of paganism, they call the resulting feeling a sense of homecoming. I have had several of these episodes throughout my life. When I first found Wicca, when I received my Degrees, when I finally realized that Wicca was not for me and I delved out into the greater world, and again when I found Hellenic Polytheism. All of these were intense, uplifting experiences that changed my life in dramatic ways. But none of these experiences were as life-altering as when we found our land. 

I originally lived in Maryland with my family. I was playing an online game when I met Rich and Tracy, and we had been “online friends” for two years when he popped the question and they decided to get married. I asked them if they had a minister yet, jokingly, and was rebuffed with a laugh. A few days later, they approached me again, and asked to see some of my work. They lived in New England, in New Hampshire, and I agreed to come up and do their wedding ceremony. 

Farnham drove up with me, and the two of us were stunned by the beauty of the entire New England area. We performed the wedding on a gorgeous day, and then spent the next day looking through the area at houses. We'd jokingly been talking about finding one large house for our family of five adults and two children, but nothing serious had been done. During that very first outing, we passed by our house. 

We chuckled to ourselves, and checked with the realtor to see how much it cost, and thanked him very much as we walked away from a stunningly huge price tag. Ah well, we hadn't been looking all that seriously, after all, and the family wouldn't want to move north, to the land of ice and snow.  

A few months later, Amo got a job working in Boston, and suddenly the move to New England became something real. We took several trips up here to look at property and homes, but nothing really resonated with us. We felt a distinct connection with the land as a whole, but no properties were jumping out at us. When we finally made the jump from Maryland to New Hampshire, we didn't move into a new house, but into the house of a friend who had room for our large family. It was disappointing, to say the least. 

After several months of finding places that “almost” fit us, Farnham once again drove past this house. At that time, we knew the house had been on the market for more than a year, as it had been almost a year since we'd originally seen it. On a whim, he asked our realtor to price it out for us. Imagine our surprise when we discovered the price had dropped dramatically! 

We were almost scared to bring people over to see the house. After all, any one of us could dislike it and the deal would not go through. One by one, though, everyone saw it, and everyone liked it. Every time I walked on the property, I could feel the land calling to me, and I was afraid to hope, afraid to pin my dreams on something that might not happen. Despite a lowering of the price, it was still expensive, much more than we'd planned. Still, we hoped and prayed. 

Amo and I sought and received permission to spend one night up on the mountain, to see how it looked and how it felt. It was late September, 2008. We loaded up our hiking gear and one small tent, and made our way up the dirt road and into the forest.  

The trees seemed to envelop us. We were both out of shape, but there was no lack of things to stop and look at as we caught our breath. The sunlight streamed down through holes in the roof of multi-hued leaves above us. Birds called, and squirrels scolded us as we struggled past an outcropping of granite and into the slight valley beyond.  

As we entered the area by the stream, we just stood there. There was no sound of cars, or planes, or anything. The only thing around us was nature. The babbling of the stream as it plunged along its course was like music. I couldn't help myself; I paused, and made a libation to the nymphs and land spirits that very moment. The log I used as a make-shift altar has become the beginning of our shrine to the Nymphae there.  

The night that I spent in that area was magical. Owls hooted playfully as they hunted in the twilight. When we went to bed, we heard a deer wandered right past our tent, unafraid of us. We woke up in the deep night to the sound of nearby coyotes yipping. I have no words to describe the beauty of that place, that night. I just know that I wanted to live there, and to preserve it, and love it, and be at one with it. 

We bought that house, and the 115 acres adjoining it (including the mountain we camped on). I've never been happier. Despite all the trials and tribulations that have occurred since we arrived here, the happiness of the land has colored everything. When I look out the window from our dining room, I can see the acre of garden coming up lush and green, filled with food to fuel our bodies. Bees will soon buzz up in our 2 acre orchard, providing us with honey to make mead. Grapes that we planted this year will be heavy with fruit in two years, for eating and for making wine. We are giving to the land, and the land is giving to us.  

Isn't that how it's supposed to be? By living close to the land, by attempting to be self sufficient, I am learning how to be closer to my gods. I feel the pulse of Dionysos' presence in the growing grape vines. Hecate hovers in the graveyard near the orchard. Artemis bounds through the corn fields along with the wild deer. Nyx covers us all with her blanket of darkness quilted with stars, each evening. Pan dances, and the calls of birds echo eerily from the forest heights, mimicking his pipes. I could be no closer to these gods, and I am proud to be their servant.