A home can vary from nation to nation with the according cultural practice of it’s people. I’ve rethought this idea in Canada and have quickly concluded that home is where you leave your heart, not a $1M cookie cutter house called mansion and placed in an expensive part of town.
In a lot of places homes are built of local materials and not prebuilt for $100,000’s of dollars. The family usually gets involved and helps with their abilities. There may or not be electricity and plumbing. Some are made of clay bricks, some log cabin in nature, some are even made from animal skins and can be broken down and easily packed.
Me and my friend are constructing one from a tarp and an old double mattress for a bed. We even have a hole dug with bigger stones placed around it for a fire pit. It had blankets blocking sun before, but then came the rain. Of corse after a little while the rain leaked through… LOL
Last night the shelter Dan and I were working on was tested again. The rain seems to seep in as I guessed it would, but the efforts we make in between each bout of rain bring hope of a dry butt at some time. Til then it’ll be collecting materials that can be used for rainproofing and wind proofing.
If my Boy Scouts serves me correctly, we’ll soon have dry feet at night and thus have a little place in which to live for a while. What makes it a home are the fire cooked hotdogs me and Dan eat for supper each night.
So with currently dry clothes, I can claim I leave my heart at home as a badge of pride for what we can achieve in the face of nature’s fierce elements. The home is the Center of all activity in any community, even amongst the homeless.