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Inside my tipi a small fire and coffee pot in front of a willow backrest against a pole tripod on which hang some clothes. My sister made the hook loop rug depicting sun rising behind mountains under blue sky, and the knitted blanket with geometric patterns. On the upper right, hanging from a tipi pole is a macramé mandala with turkey feathers woven in that my mom made. There are low beds with thin cotton mattresses either side of the backrest. One of the great pleasure of this was waking at sunrise to the sound of geese honking as they landed on the river rippling by, or the magpies making racket in the cottonwood trees. I'd know it was getting late when the crows showed up on the tipi poles. The tipi held up better when wind would gust, and it was a really relaxing space to hang out in. Hard not to feel connected with the earth living that way, so many reminders of nature's cycles and geometry. But at the ranch it was mostly a bedroom. When I struck out on my own it got more serious.