There is a place where snow clings to trees one day and birds hug the breeze the next; where weather does not define us, but intertwines with our lives. A place where I have learned to be attuned to the landscape around me, true to my own deepest nature, awake in the sense that I am looking through the eyes of the sky above me.

This place has taught me to slowly stand in my impacts, to notice where gravel leads to grass, where grass leads to homes, to gatherings, song circles, and celebration; a place where I have learned to explore the inner workings of my own existence, step up and step out into the world of connection, into the interconnectedness of us all.

You know, Dancing Rabbit! What else could I be talking about?

Guess who’s back with another update? Yep, it’s Prairie.

Two weeks ago, I returned to Northeast Missouri from a three-week journey that took me to Chicago, Portland, Quintana Roo, Mexico, back to Chicago, and then to… cold. Undeniable, unyielding, unattractive, brown winter weather. I suddenly found myself questioning my choice to return in mid-January. From Mexico.

That first week home was a bumpy landing to say the least. It seemed like nothing was going as I wanted it to: my house was cold, moisture still remained in my firewood after a curing period of over two years, my kitchen co-op was reduced to a whopping five people (including myself), and I had so much work to catch up on. The first thing I noticed upon entering my house was my dead, frozen spider plant I had recklessly forgotten. That did not improve my mood either.

It took me a full week and the warm, refreshing listening skills of my friends to help me settle into the suddenly awkward rhythms of DR. A shout out to K* for warming my house before I arrived and making me popcorn! And to Tails, Daniel, Chad, and Liz for supporting me through my jumbled landing.

What is a community if not a place to rest when one is weary, and to reach out to when support is needed?

Serendipitously, a few days after my arrival, Alis approached me and asked if I would move temporarily to CSCC’s most recent acquisition, the Martin House (formerly known as the Timberframe), to test its systems and capacity for warmth in the winter. At that point, the promise of any alternative living situation seemed better than my current one. I obliged.

The following Saturday, I made the uphill trek from Tamar’s Cabin to the Martin House with my small foam mattress cover, some books, a toothbrush, and my computer. Apple (from Red Earth Farms) had moved in a couple days before and was settled into one of the bedrooms in the addition, while Alis held domain over the smaller bedroom called the Dragon Room, due to the large, cobbed dragon sculpted into the south wall.

The Martin House Cabin was the first building constructed on the warren, where I have been staying for the past week. The Martin House Addition was constructed later and shares the east wall of the cabin, with a door connecting the two for easy access to both buildings. Former member Jennifer Martin, a sustainable architecture designer and builder, designed and built both structures some years ago and recently donated them to CSCC, DR’s nonprofit. CSCC is now tasked with discovering how well the buildings perform, especially in the winter.

To really make this adventure a party, Alis invited a few known folks outside of Dancing Rabbit to stay in the Addition and do a work exchange with him.

Acknowledging the myriad mishaps throughout the project, beginning with work exchangers canceling, the internet nearby removed, Graham catching COVID and being unable to eat with us, Apple departing earlier than planned, work exchangers leaving in the middle of the night, I couldn’t have asked for, or anticipated. a warmer, cozier, more humorous atmosphere.

Just when it seemed like the surprises were over, and we could proceed with ease to Daniel’s much-anticipated event, Night of the Poet (a Rabbit-esq twist on Robert Burns’ birthday), Chad tested positive for COVID 20 minutes before the event was to begin. Oh, the anguish! Daniel had put so much energy into this night, and Ben made haggis for crying out loud!

And so, with masks available, we laced up our boots and strode to the Milkweed Mercantile, where all manner of delight and delicious food was to be had. Daniel and Tails introduced the food in courses, starting with soup, salad, and homemade bread, then tatties (potatoes) and nips (turnips), and Ben gave the address to the haggis. Throughout the feast, folks stood and read poems aloud, some original, some otherwise.

Through the warm glow of food and poetry, I remembered why I had come home. How could I stay away from such a place? I looked around the room at the Rabbits, folks from Red Earth, and others from Memphis, dressed in “Dancing Rabbit formal,” with ties, kilts, skirts, jeans, and shark onesies. These are my people, I thought. This is my family. I will listen to Georgia’s poem, “Dog or Boyfriend”— you really should have been there to hear it—and people will listen to the poem I wrote when I was 17 about how disappointed I was in America.

I never know what is going to come of DR parties, but I am rarely disappointed.

So, I wish you now, from the warmth of the Martin House Cabin, many moments of laughter and connection this winter. May it be a joyous and uplifting time for you and may you spread that warmth wherever you find yourself.

This spring we'll be sending Prairie, our youngest and most eloquent member of Dancing Rabbit (age 20), on a speaking tour. She'll be speaking at schools and other venues and might even come to you⎼if you reach out ahead of time!