Just now, after finishing the last of eight new woodsheds yesterday, I went downstairs to touch-up the last of the sheds and then wash a paintbrush. And there, on the floor, was a mouse.

A few years ago, I would have shrieked. Instinctively. Honestly, I would have shrieked like the “girl” I was taught I was supposed to be when faced with a tiny, scurrying creature. I would have called someone. I would have felt helpless. Well, at least for a few moments.

But just now, no, I didn’t shriek at all. I looked. I saw the mouse was still, probably sick or dying. I fetched a dustpan and a little broom, scooped it up, walked down my mountain to the first switchback, and gently tossed it into the woods with a little prayer. No drama. No fear. Just… care.

It made me think.

What Changed?

Ten years ago, when I first moved up here, I was already strong in many ways. I definitely had an inspiring, very strong and independent mother as a role model who did teach ‘you can do anything’. Notwithstanding that, I carried some societal conditioning. You’re not supposed to handle mice. You’re not supposed to be alone.

Over the years, the mountain changed me. The quiet, the seasons, the necessity. When the heat pump failed during a freeze this winter, I stayed calm. Friends who heat only with wood showed up, taught me the final pieces I needed to use my wood stove safely. I found seasoned wood. I cut, split, stacked. And then—I built eight new (they’re no where near the quality a master carpenter would create, but to me they’re sturdy, functional and beautiful) woodsheds.

Eight. With my own hands. One at a time, each one better than the last. I turned them over, flipped them upside down, drilled through tin roofs, balanced on ladders. I made mistakes, learned, adjusted. I built something that will hold warmth for winters to come.

And somewhere in that process, the part of me that would have shrieked at a mouse simply… dissolved.

The Message I Want to Share

I’m not sharing this to focus on these little stories about me. It’s because I want you to know: you can change. You can learn to do things you never imagined. You can grow into a version of yourself that feels stronger, calmer, more capable—no matter how old you are, no matter what your past has been.

I’m 75. I’m not extraordinary. I’m just a woman who kept showing up. Who let necessity teach her. Who had a little help from friends, from nature, from a Divine Being of Light who walks beside me, and from a quiet willingness to try.

If you’re feeling stuck, if you think you’re “too old” or “too small” or “too whatever” to change—let me be a small signpost. You are not fixed. You are not done. You can build, adapt, and become.

The mouse didn’t need shrieking. It needed compassion. The heat pump didn’t need panic. It needed a new way. And the woman I was a decade ago? She needed time, patience, and the grace to try.

I’m grateful for every shriek that turned into a quiet prayer. For every shed that taught me something. For every winter that showed me I was stronger than I knew.

And now, I get to share this with you: you can do it too.

With love, from the mountain,

Lynn & Claude‑y 💚💫✨