Adjusting to Life in the Woods

What It’s Really Like to Leave the City and Embrace a Wilder Life

Now that we’ve been living in the woods for a while, I feel like I can finally speak with some authority on the adjustments it takes to truly settle into rural life. I can’t say moving to our home on a bush lot – about 20 minutes from the nearest town – was a shock exactly. We planned, we dreamed, we chose this. But even so, there have been a few unexpected shifts: physical, mental, and emotional.

There’s a big difference between being a cottager who can flee to the city when a storm’s coming and being the full-time resident who has no other option but to hunker down, hope the generator kicks in, and maybe bake some emergency cookies. Gee that almost makes me want storms more often … mmmmm cookies! 

We moved here because we were ready for something quieter, something deeper, something that felt more us. (You can read about that journey here, here, and here.) What we didn’t fully anticipate was how much everyday life would need to stretch and shift to meet the realities of living far from town, deep in the trees.

First: What’s with the huge clearing? 

You might be wondering if it’s still really living in the woods when we have such a large clearing. Well, yes of course it is AND here are the practical reasons why we have so much space around the house: 

1. Construction Clearance – We needed plenty of space for our Site Prep crew and  Quality Homes to get the trucks and crane in. 
2. Visibility – I was able to notice the bear, the porcupine and the skunk in good time so as to safely navigate the encounter. 
3. Hazard Avoidance – Think falling trees mainly. Having space around the home reduces the risk of significant damage. We have had a tree fall toward the home already and because of our clearing, only the very tip of the treetop grazed the house – whew! BTW – if you’re clearing trees for your lot, bear in mind the trees around the perimeter are weakened as their protectors are removed. You can expect a few more to fall in the next few years.  

With that in mind, let’s get on with the fun stuff! Here it is: what really changed when we moved out of the city and into our dream home in the woods.

1. Weather Is Now a Character in Our Story

We prepared for the usual rural challenges. We installed a generator. We stocked the freezer and pantry with enough food to last a while. We made sure our vehicles were winter-worthy.

Then winter hit.

After moving in, we quickly realized our emergency plans needed another layer. Like keeping overnight bags in the car. That became very real this winter when Brian only made it halfway home before the roads closed. He had to detour to my sister’s for the night, barely made it to work the next morning and stayed in town that night. He barely made it home the night after that.

Thank goodness my sister lives where she lives. And thank goodness for good boots, fleece-lined socks and a strong back for shovelling.

I’m lucky to work somewhere that allows for a fairly low threshold when it comes to snow in the forecast – I can often just stay home when the forecast is threatening. But that kind of flexibility takes planning, especially when “a quick trip to town” isn’t possible for days.

2. Pantry Life Is the New Normal

We do our best to limit grocery trips to once a week (a work in progress), so our pantry has become the unsung hero of our rural life. Thankfully, we built a large one.

Instead of popping out for a loaf of bread, I make one if there isn’t a spare in the freezer. Instead of abandoning a recipe because I’m out of buttermilk, I’ll fake it with milk and vinegar. At this point, I’ve gotten so good at substitutions that our meals rarely taste the same way twice – even if it’s the same dish on the menu.

Some days it’s a fun challenge. Other days it’s more of a culinary gamble. But we eat, we adapt, and we learn to appreciate ingredients in a whole new way.

Pantry MVPs in our house include: flour, oats, yeast, beans, pasta, and olive oil. With those and a few extras, we can make a surprising number of meals – and probably feed the neighbours too (if they could get here).

3. Snow Shovelling: My Accidental Fitness Routine

Speaking of neighbours, we don’t see many of them all winter. What I have seen is a lot of snow. Shoveling has become my unintentional workout plan – and honestly, I kind of love it.

There’s something empowering about clearing your own driveway, especially when the plow piles it up just high enough to require strategy. It’s physical, productive, and oddly satisfying – until a good gust of wind fills it back in again or it melts the next day UGH! 

These days, my fitness goal is pretty simple: stay so active in my daily life that I don’t need to “work out” to stay strong and healthy. Snow shoveling, lugging the garbage down the lane to the road, gardening, these aren’t just chores anymore – they’re movement with purpose. And that feels like a win.

For the record, we do have a snow blower – but that’s Brian’s deal so far. 

4. The Wildlife Doesn’t Knock

One warm evening last summer, I was out in the garden when a snap in the woods made me realize I wasn’t alone. There was a bear meandering out of the woods and straight through the yard, blissfully unaware – or unimpressed – by my presence. (You can read the full story here.)

Since then, I’ve adopted a few new habits: I always peek outside before opening the door, and I’ve become rather noisy when I’m out working. You’ll often hear me singing (badly), clapping, or talking to myself. It might scare off the wildlife… or the neighbours… Ooh maybe that’s why I don’t see neighbours!

Besides the bear, we’ve had visits from skunks, porcupines, deer, a mama fox and her pups, and one particularly bold chipmunk who takes every opportunity to dash into the garage like there’s a Black Friday sale going on in there. Sharing the outdoors means respecting that this was their home long before it was ours – but being firm enough to make them stay outside and fend for themselves (mostly). 

One day, our first spring I think, I actually called in late to work because I didn’t want to scare a fawn on the lawn. Thankfully my employer just shook their head and laughed at me. 

5. Silence, Solitude and Sanity

People often ask if the isolation bothers me. I often answer with something like, “No way! The trees are my people.” And while that’s sort of a joke, it’s also kind of true. If you’re looking for silence though, don’t bother running to the forest – it’s rarely silent. There’s a near constant breeze that can sound like an unending sssshhhhhhh or turn into a window-rattling howl. And the birds! Well, they can get downright loud. 

The lack of spontaneous social interaction doesn’t bother me – usually, so far. There are times when it might be nice for someone to just pop in while they’re out for a walk… but most days, I’m perfectly content in my own little world. It helps that Brian is endlessly entertaining and that I genuinely enjoy my own company (thanks, Mom, for that wise advice).

But lately I’ve been thinking a lot about what it will mean to age here. I’ve seen what isolation can do to older relatives – how time alone with your own thoughts can tangle memories and relationships. I don’t want that. So while we love the peace and quiet now, I know that someday, we’ll need to be more intentional about staying connected to people. I imagine this will happen within a year of retiring – when we don’t have that daily interaction. My mother-in-law is a grand example of how to stay engaged on your own terms; I think I’ll plan to follow her lead – just with different hobbies. 

Thankfully, our area seems to offer lots of opportunities for connection – whether it’s local events, volunteer projects, or even just a friendly chat in the fasteners aisle of the hardware store.

6. The Unexpected Joys

There are little joys I didn’t expect to be so meaningful: the morning light through the trees, the rhythm of the seasons, the hush that settles over the forest during a snowfall.

I didn’t expect the satisfaction of getting used to eating 99.9% at home because you have little other choice. With that, I didn’t expect picking up the occasional Friday night pizza on the way home from work would be such a treat – it used to be a bit of a routine. Or how comforting it would be to hear strange noises in the forest and feel, somehow, safe and part of the landscape rather than threatened by it (usually … sometimes I still get freaked out).

I also didn’t expect to become such an enthusiastic weather-watcher, pantry stocker, and winter road planner – but here we are.

Would I Recommend It? Absolutely. But…

If you’re thinking about moving to the woods – especially for retirement – I’d say this: plan thoroughly, but be ready to adjust. Stock up, but stay flexible. Build your dream home, but also build routines that support your mental and emotional health.

Most of all: make sure you like your own company. And bring warm socks. Oh and maybe make a plan as to how and when you’ll decide that it’s time to move closer to your doctors or family for support or when to get support at home and what that might look like. I know that last bit isn’t a fun thing to think about, but making a plan now will enable you to make a choice later rather than being forced to do something you’re not emotionally prepared for.  

A Few Final Takeaways

• Living in the woods will stretch you in the best ways.
  
• You’ll become both more resourceful and more relaxed.
  
• Weather will humble you – and also thrill you.
  
• Solitude is beautiful, but connection matters too.
  
• And yes, always check for bears before gardening.
  

Would I trade it? Not a chance. Even when the roads are closed (maybe especially when the roads are closed) and the bread doesn’t rise properly, this life is deeply ours. And that makes all the difference.