“Okay…” I nod slowly. “But makewhathappen?”
Josh reaches for my hand. “Let me show you.”
Holding my hand, he leads me past the coop, the vegetable garden, the orchard, the pond, and the barn to the fields on the far side of our property, meandering up the hillside. Josh has been working over the last year to clear the land; he has plans to grow wheat and oats one day, but for now, it’s just been pasture for our goats and cow.
We walk past the first field up toward the woods behind the house. I really have no idea where he’s taking me. Rose is dancing at my heels, clearly incandescent with excitement. Josh seems ebullient now, his face alight as he leads me through a newly cut path through the woods, the ground covered in mulch and woodchips and lined with stones.
“When did you do this?” I murmur. I hardly ever go back this far, but I think I’d remember this path.
“Jack’s been working on it for the last week or so,” Josh replies. It seems like everyone is on this secret, whatever it is, except for me. I’m not sure how to feel about that, but I decide to just go with it. Whatever he’s got planned, my husband is clearly very excited about it.
We follow the path as it twists up the wooded hillside, then emerges into a small wildflower-strewn meadow; I can see the top of our house below the trees.
“Ta-da!” Josh exclaims, and I turn from the view of our house to survey the meadow. There are three substantial-looking canvas tents, each one on a raised wooden platform, along with what looks like a stable block.
I turn questioningly to him, and he laughs.
“They’re yurts,” he explains. “Glamping yurts.”
“Glamping yurts,” I repeat.
“Come see.” He leads me to the first one, pulling aside the canvas and helping me step up onto the wooden platform. Inside, it’s surprisingly spacious and high-ceilinged. It doesn’t feel like a tent at all. “There’s room for a double bed and a couple of armchairs,” Josh informs me. “And we’ll have a fire pit and some Adirondack chairs outside. We want a deluxe experience.”
“So, we’d have people come and stay?” I surmise, although I suppose that’s obvious.
“Yes, of course! One hundred and fifty dollars a night is the going rate. I think we could have the whole summer booked out. These beauties should be ready by the beginning of July.”
“But…” I shake my head slowly. I hate to be the downer in all this, but I know how my husband likes to get ahead of himself. “What about zoning? And sanitation? And—”
“Relax, Abby.” Josh holds up a hand to forestall any further questions. “I’m working on the zoning, which I don’t think will be a problem, and sanitation is taken care of. William, Jack, andI built two self-composting toilets and three outdoor showers, supplied by rainwater. It’s fine.”
Taking my hand again, he shows me the facilities, and they are surprisingly attractive. The self-composting toilet is outfitted like a proper bathroom, with a storage box of mulchy woodchips that you use to cover your business once you’ve finished. The showers and sinks are supplied by a tank of rainwater, which can be filled manually in seasons of drought. They hold enough water for several showers and uses of the sink.
It seems like my husbandhasthought of everything.
And yet… I can’t help but wish, just a little bit, that he’d run it all by me first. Having glampers on our property is a big deal, especially when I find out that he’s planning on offering them full cooked breakfasts as part of the “luxury experience”, along with fresh eggs, milk, yogurt, and cheese. That will obviously involve my effort, and with a baby…
“If we can rent all three yurts for just sixty days a year,” Josh tells me as we walk back toward the woodland path, “that’s twenty-seven thousand dollars.”
Well, that figure makes me feel a little better. I know there will be overheads I can’t even imagine now, but that’s a lot of money for us.
“Do you think we can get that many people?” I ask a little dubiously.
“Absolutely.” He nods, firm in his certainty. “When we can afford it, I want to get a hot tub and maybe a trampoline, a ping-pong table, that kind of thing. And we can offer paddleboards and fishing for the pond… I know it’s not that big a body of water, but they could still have fun. Plus, kids could help around the homestead; parents love that kind of hands-on experience. We can do a little more landscaping, too, make everything more attractive.”
He glances critically at the three yurts on their wooden platforms while I start to panic again. I’m picturing strangers wandering around the property, poking their heads into the barn, the coop, maybe even the house. Late-night parties that keep everyone up—sound travels right across the valley. Trash left around that we’ll have to pick up.
But… twenty-seven thousand dollars. And we do need to do something to make ends meet a little more; there’s no doubt about that. Besides, as I look at Josh’s beaming face, I know he’s excited about this. He’s thrilled.
So, there is really only one response I can make.
“This is totally amazing, Josh. I love it.”
A wave of relief breaks over his face, then his grin widens. “Really? You think so?”
“Absolutely.” He’s worked so hard on this, and he’s so proud. And if it works out, it will be great, and we’ll get used to having people around. It could even be fun, meeting new people all the time. “I really am,” I tell him, and stand on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
Chapter fifteen
