Dear Wivey,

Welcome to Wiveliscombe, a small town in the Somerset area here in the English countryside. Here are a few details. It is pronounced Wiv-eh-liscomb, I think anyway. It's definitely not Wives-li-combe, and the bus driver will be very confused when you tell him that's your destination. He may think you're on the wrong bus. The local folk will often just call it "Wivey", Wiv-ee. Population is similar to that of Mocksville, my hometown. But there's no I-40 here and no cancerous growth that is the strip leading to the exit. The biggest shops I've seen here are Spar and Asda, and about twenty of each could fit inside Mocksville's Walmart. On Saturdays you'll find a lovely farmer's market downtown. There's also Thorne's, a butcher shop which has been voted one of the best 100 shops in at least all of England. There are two pubs, The White Hart and The Bear. All very exciting but amazingly enough I didn't end up here because of the shopping. I came here to stay with Craig and Lis who I found via Workaway.

Who exactly are Craig and Lis? Well, they just happen to be two of the best folks I've met in my adventure so far. After a coach ride from London to Taunton I hopped on a regional bus to Wivey. It's on that bus I first realized my pronunciation was all wrong. As we pulled into the town "square" the polite driver let me know we were there. This wasn't a London bus and there was no way of knowing which stop was which unless you knew the area. I had asked the driver to point it out to me. Here I spilled off the bus into the square. Just as I began to wonder what Craig looked like I heard someone say "Zeb?", and there he was. A tall man wearing a hat who looked like he worked for a living. He took me to a pickup truck and I tossed (heaved) my pack into the bed before hopping in. Soon after we'd arrive at he and Lis's home and a great dinner prepared by her. This is also where I met the other members of the family. There's Albie and Eli, their two young boys, plus Neebo the hyper puppy. But first I'd like to talk about their home. It's the friendliest home I've been in after a long while. You walk into a small porch area where you'll find the compost toilet and the washing machines, one for dishes one for clothes. The next door you go thru is my favorite type of door. And it's along with that thought I was reminded of how odd I am. Who has a favorite type of door? I do, and it's the kind of door that you can unbolt the top half from the bottom to swing it open. What a lovely idea. There's a door like this at my Grandparent's house in Mocksville, where the idea first came to me that I have a favorite door. Anyway, once you actually make it by this door into the house you'll find yourself in the kitchen. Here there's everything you'd find in your normal kitchen, plus a huge woodstove. Again I'm reminded of Mocksville where we had a woodstove in our kitchen at home. From the kitchen you can see the living room over the bar. There you'll find the dining room table, computer, couch, TV, woodstove, and Lis's medicine cabinet. The medicine cabinet attracts your attention with its large glass doors where you see a variety of bottles with odd names. I'll get to it later. The rest of the house is private living space for the family so I haven't seen much of that. Except one day I was lucky enough to get a tour lead by Eli to he and Albie's rooms. I'll just say if I were a child, I'd want to be in one of those rooms. Unfortunately for me I only get the coolest caravan I've ever stayed in.

After dinner, wonderful conversation and tea, I'd go up to "my" caravan. It's up on the hill behind the house where there's room for my own and their privacy. I first noticed about the caravan that it's green, which is my favorite color. There's also a covered porch with a table and some chairs as well as storage for veggies and cold foods. Outside you'll also find a solar panel, bush bath (that I'm itching to use), and the compost toilet. Inside there's a sitting area, small kitchen with a gas stove, bed, and my favorite feature which is the woodstove. Life is grand.

So what exactly am I doing in exchange for all of this? I'm working with Craig and Lis on projects where they might need help. And the best part of it all? Working with them doesn't really feel like work. Craig is into forestry and land management so when I'm with him we're outside. Lis is into herbal medicines and making sure things are working smoothly around here. My day with her was half outside half inside and all fun. In the morning I'll walk down to their house at 8:30, we usually start off with tea. So far my favorite day with Craig was one where we went out to the sawmill. There we'd work with Frank and Paul, two of Craig's friends. Frank, like Craig, is a tall man. He's got a good sense of humor and is fun to talk with. Paul is physically aged beyond his years from a rough life working in the woods (and motorbike crashes, according to Lis). It turns out he's only 60 but when I first heard him talk about his Mom I thought surely she's at least 110, she's only 88. He also looks a bit like a bear, or badger. And he enjoys talking. At least once Craig had to put Paul and I back on track. The sawmill is simple enough, a large machine on rollers with a blade to be pushed thru a log. Paul drives the tractor and drags logs up to the mill where they're rolled on to the platform. Despite the rain it was a lot of fun to watch Craig at work. When not being lazy I was debarking logs with a flat bladed shovel. This was a satisfying job. Peaceful, until Paul came over with his chainsaw which had a debarker attached. Soon I was showered with bark and half deaf from the roar until I ran for my earmuffs. Luckily he stopped often to chat. I've decided a shovel is the only way to go, it's silent and makes for a prettier looking log. Soon though I had debarked enough logs to move onto my favorite task, splitting logs. Craig had taught me the method and I was eager for practice. I'd be splitting beech which he tells me is one of the harder woods to split. But, if I do say so myself, I've gotten pretty good at it. Soon challenging myself with bigger and bigger logs to break down. It just feels so right. Now I understand a bit why my Dad always wanted to split logs on his own instead of having us do it. Other than my brother and I probably being fairly terrible at it at the time. My day with Lis was a little less physical. After doing some drainage ditch clearing we moved on to gather pine buds from some trees. She'll use these to make an oil as well as some tastey tea. We spent the afternoon inside pressing elderberries and a leaf which I've forgotten. She also gave me a tour of the medicine cabinet telling me about different ones and sampling some. My favorite was the rosa elixir. This is how I repay them for some food and housing, but there are things I owe them a great deal for.

Here in Wivey I really feel like part of the family. They've introduced me to so many friends and even taken me along on family outings. The first was on my 2nd night here, November 5th. Guy Fawkes day and bonfire night. Most know this day thanks to the movie V for Vendetta, I did too, but I'll always remember it for this night. We piled into the car and headed for town. Here we stopped by the pub before heading to a huge field where a massive bonfire was burning. It's here I first met Frank as he joked about the civilized nation of England celebrating the burning of a Carholic. As the bonfire raged fireworks were shot into the sky for really quite a nice display. It's no 4th of July, but it wasn't bad. When the weekend rolled around I'd be introduced to some more British culture. On Saturday after a trip to Exmoor where I played hide and seek with Albie (and saw Exmoor ponies!) while Eli splashed in every puddle he came to we'd head to Lis's dad's. Here I met a bit of the family, more lovely people. But really we were there for the North Petherton Carnival. Craig had told me that it's really just tractors covered in lightbulbs driving down the street, and in the most basic sense that is what it is. But it really is tractors pulling huge themed floats with thousands of lightbulbs and choreographed shows with music. It put every parade I've ever seen to shame. Every now and then there's an individual in an elaborate costume, or a float with people that don't move, but it's the ones I described before that steal the show. Huge pirate ships with cannons, dancing buccaneers, and moving parts. Atlantis sea dragons swimming down the street ridden by warriors. Vikings with glowing eyes bringing snow. It was mad. If you ever have a chance to see it, see it. But the best part? It may be Eli insisting that he hold my hand as we walked back to the car. I had been worried he didn't like me much, he always seemed a bit shy.

Other than all of that excitement just eating dinner at the end of a work day is great fun. Craig and Lis are both a joy to talk to and have a lot of knowledge to share. They're interesting folks with an exciting past. And they've helped me acclimate to British culture answering tough questions like: What's a pastie? A scotch egg? When is a pound a quid? What do you define as a biscuit? And more. They also both have great taste in music which I'm trying to learn from.

Lots of people wouldn't even think to visit Wiveliscombe. And I don't blame them. London is much more exciting. Things are slower here. But this little town and its folks will forever be in my mind and in my heart. I even kind of like the pheasants that plague this land like locusts, raised to be shot by "hunters". Maybe that will change after a bit more time here, Craig and Lis sure don't like them. And they do make an otherwise peaceful jog an event as they dive out of bushes and squawk, flying to safety. We'll see.

Sincerely,
Zeb

P.S.
I think one day I'd like to write a dictionary on British culture. We're so similar but so different in the funniest ways. Honestly, who calls a cookie a biscuit? A biscuit is obviously a biscuit. I'm always writing goofy new things in my journal and may aim to share at the end of my stay in England.