Shinrinyoku in the Valley

Chop Suey leaves the Portuguese monoculture madness behind. The endless rows of olives and almonds fade into memory, traded for deep forests and mountain air. Destination: Slocan Lake, British Columbia. For three months, semi off-grid in the Kootenays, Chop Suey breathes with baby plants at Root Stone Nursery.

No social media hustle, no blaring sirens, no pressure to perform. This is Shinrin-yoku, or forest bathing, a practice rooted in Japan, a full-body soul rinse. City life now feels distant, the noise, the fumes, the low hum of agricultural pollution, that clouds the senses. Out here, each inhale feels like a quiet reset, every breath feels like a reboot. The air unclouded by fumes or dust.

Raw Vintage Real

The Woofers’ bus becomes home. It’s parked at the forest line in the Kootenay Mountains, with snow up high and everything below slowly turning to mud. Wildlife comes and goes like it owns the place. Deer pass by without much fuss, ravens circle loudly and eagles drift overhead, keeping an eye on the valley. A creek nearby runs fast with snowmelt, loud enough to be a constant background track. The air smells like wet soil, cedar, and sap. Mornings start cold, afternoons loosen up a bit, and evenings remind you quickly that it’s still early spring. Day-to-day life is hands-on. Moving wood, poking around in the soil, stacking a few stones by the creek. Nothing is polished or staged, figuring things out as you go.

When Aurora steals the Show

Late one night at Rootstone Nursery, Chop Suey hears a knock rattle the school bus door. A voice whispers, “You need to see this.”

They pause for a moment, then push the door open and step down into the cold. Outside, the sky is clear and dense with stars. The Big Dipper hangs low on the horizon, and Mars glows faintly above the treetops.

At first, nothing seems unusual. Then a faint wash of green appears, barely visible, stretching thin across the sky. It gathers slowly, deepening in color, and is soon joined by streaks of violet. The aurora begins to move—soft arcs and shifting bands drifting over the constellations. These lights form as charged particles from the Sun interact with Earth’s magnetic field and atmosphere, producing light high above the Earth.

Chop Suey stands still, watching as the colors intensify, then gradually fade back into the darkness. The moment is brief, but enough to register both the scale of what is happening and the rarity of seeing the northern lights so vividly from this place.

Kootenay Spring Hikes

Snow still covers the peaks in the Kootenay Mountains, holding on even as spring begins to push through. On the lower slopes, the melt, glaciers and snowpack feeding cold streams that cut through the valleys. Hikes move at a careful pace, boots crunching over ice, with sections of trail softened by runoff. Water is constant here, loud and present.

Small trees and brush begin to break through the snow, reaching for light where they can. Wildlife is active again. Most animals remain out of sight, but their presence is noticeable, tracks crossing the trail, disturbed patches of ground, scat left behind. It’s enough to stay aware. We keep talking or humming as we walk, making our presence known.

On hikes like this, awareness and steady company matter. The terrain demands attention, and conditions shif.  t quickly. After a short but damp winter in Lisbon, the green of the Kootenays feels distinct, denser, colder, and more saturated.

Chop Suey pauses, takes a deep breath and slows down long enough to take in the surroundings. The movement of water, the quiet signs of animal life, the transition between seasons, a great reset before continuing on.

Yesterdays LeftOver - Todays Treasure

At the edge of winter, Rootstone Nursery’s cellar still holds summer’s stored harvest: a few pumpkins, some squashes, slightly weathered but intact. Chop Suey picks through the crate and settles on a butternut, its skin matte and firm, and brings it back to the kitchen.

Around the property, some vegetables seem to operate on their own timeline. Compost heaps turn into growing patches without much planning—squash vines appear where scraps were tossed months earlier, pushing out broad leaves as soon as the temperature shifts. A few trail outward into open space, uncontained. Others don’t make it far; the chickens usually find them first, pecking at new growth.

The butternut is peeled, cubed, and set to simmer. Chop Suey adds fresh ginger, turmeric, and a handful of lentils. The ingredients are simple, but intentional—foods that store well, cook easily, and provide steady nutrition. Lentils add protein and substance, part of the kind of diet often associated with long-living communities, sometimes referred to as “blue zone” patterns: whole foods, legumes, root vegetables, minimal processing.

As the soup thickens, a pinch of black pepper is added to bring out the turmeric. The result is warm, filling, and direct. Nothing elaborate—just a practical meal built from what’s available, shaped as much by the land and season as by choice. Chop Suey tastes it, lets it sit for a moment, then eats.