It'd be nice to be a hermit

Recently--and maybe it's because I've been reading Thoreau--I feel a certain frustration at being in a place where I have no outdoor spot.  I'd have to travel to find a tree under which I could sit without being disturbed.  The other day when it snowed, I wanted to go outside and play.  But where could I go?  My balcony?  I don't want to have to drive somewhere to make a snow angel.  or a snow man.  

And let's say that I wanted to leave all my stuff and go build a cabin by a pond.  Where could I go?  I haven't got any land, and there is no land that is unclaimed.  I'd have to use my parents' land (Thoreau used Emerson's, so I'm not alone in this), where there's already a cabin, and where a bean cannot grow.  It's been tried.

I guess I'm just feeling that it'd be nice to shake [almost] everything off, like a dog shakes off water, and live according to my own rules for a bit.  Away from classes, away from bills, away from [most] people.