Smugglers Cove Whidbey Island

Yesterday, the roller coaster was flying at full speed.  These are some very, very exciting, trying, boisterous times.

The new (old) (new-to-us) water well waved a few warning flags.  Mark spent much of his day dealing with water issues.  His questions were answered and tests will commence and we should have answers soon.

We live in Colorado and we have the best water.  There is nothing like turning on the tap and having cold, clear, clean mountain water.  Well, that will change.  We will be on an island and the water questions are numerous.

Years ago, we lived in a tiny cabin outside of Fairbanks, Alaska.  There was no water.  We drove to Fox and filled out numerous water jugs and made that precious commodity last for days and even weeks.  Daily showers?  A dream.  We could brush our teeth with a smidgen of water.  Our daughter bathed next to the wood stove in a metal pot.  We were jealous of her luxury bath!

This isn’t the photo I wanted to post, but it is fabulous and it will suffice.

I wanted to post the photo of our totally empty main level here in the forest.  I open a drawer and it echoes.  I put down my hair brush and it echoes.  It is just so weird.

I have but a very few days left of work.  It is so difficult.  I want to tell my young protege everything I have learned over the past decade or so.  I can’t.  How do I share all of that?  We must keep in touch.

So, I push ahead.  I fill time.  I wait for floors to be done.  I pack.  I sort.  I toss.  I mourn and celebrate and wait.

Exhaustion.

I am so tired that I don’t know what to say.  I want to tell you all about today’s massive moving of stuff..to the thrift store (again), the trash (again), sold (again), packed (again).

Today, I help my mother’s wooden straight needle holder in my hand.  It was falling apart as I held it…and yet, it will be with us on the island.  I packed matching knitting needles and crochet hooks and I was ready to toss the broomstick lace implement.  My husband saw it and thought it was worth saving.  Odd beginnings and endings.  Odd moments.  Odd times.

Tomorrow the entire upstairs should be empty.  The animals (2 dogs, 2 cats) are beyond upset.  Long ago, they thought we were packing for a vacation and yet now, it has turned into a very strange occurrence.  Beds are disappearing.  Blankets moved about.  Furniture is not where it is supposed to be.  Cats want to jump onto a couch ledge and know it’s there…well, it’s not.  Tomorrow, the cat roost that Mark built will go from upstairs to downstairs.  We will  place it in front of a window, but it will not be in the expected spot.

And so we, too, are surrounded with change and flux.  Our next few steps will be momentous.  All around us lilacs bloom, iris buds open, scarlet runner beans are pushing though the earth.  The second wave of miller moths is upon us.  The lettuce, arugula, radicchio and marigolds are reaching for the sun.   Most likely, we will miss the harvest of it all.

As this log pile grows, the items in the house vanish.  Vanish is not quite the optimum word.  We piece through each and every shred of our lives and wonder what to take.  I constantly remind myself that I have memories to last a lifetime.  I have a few special trinkets and odds and ends that spark obsolete moments in time.  But, do I need the flotsam to trigger those memories and if so, at what cost?  New memories are mine for the taking.  I can pick and choose what I need and want to have surrounding me.  A simple shell, a bird’s nest, drift wood, rust, flowers, slugs and an occasional deer antler.  What else is there?

Isn’t it beautiful?  Our driveway.  I want to be there.  I want to be a part of the initial action, but it is not to be.  My heart aches.

So, I am here, culling through copious amounts of life belongings and taking so, so many of them to the thrift store.  This end is very, very difficult, and yet, I want to begin the new chapter.

Our kids owe us.  The fact that they will not have to slog through our mountains of crap when we die is a priceless gift for them!  I did that for my mother and it was painful.  My darlings…I am trying to simplify my life and choose carefully each and every belonging that comes into our new home.

…and so it begins in earnest.  A few trees are down.  The POD has been delivered (although it has to be replaced…it leaks).  Boxes are being packed.  More thrift store runs have been made.

I can see the top of the roller coaster from here.  I am gearing up to scream WHEEEE and hold on for the ride.

When did all this nonsense about curb appeal begin?  First impression of a home and all that?  When did people lose the ability to walk into a home and envision possibilities, instead of having it staged to fill in their obvious lack of creativity?

Yesterday, we re-seeded a section of our front lawn.  I use the term lawn very capriciously.  It was more a patch of dirt with a variety of bare spots, weeds, and dandelions.  In order to present prospective home-buyers with a good first impression, we made the decision to level, re-seed, add a bit of manure (love it), fence off the dogs and see what happens.  We were gifted with a few inches of very wet snow overnight!  Perfect!

Lawns.  Personally, I believe they are the scourge of western civilization.  People fertilize them and lay down poison to keep out the dandelions…all of that poison runs off into the water systems.  Children play on that poison.  People spend copious amounts of money on sod, lawn mowers, edgers, weed whackers, landscaping (hired lawn mowers), lawn food, et cetera.  Why?  To have the neatest, greenest patch of green on the block?  To keep the HOA happy?  Don’t get me started about HOA’s.

The photo accompanying this rant offers a view of the curb appeal that drew us in to this property.  That’s curb appeal.  I will not lay down poison.  I will pull out noxious weeds and I do not consider a dandelion a noxious weed.  I will encourage native plants to flourish. If I need a “lawn” on which to play croquet or badminton, I will mow a bit of area and let the games begin.

Imagination…it’s a wonderful thing.

Here we go.  We are so lucky to have the most amazing builder/architect/designer/friend.  We met the crew and they rock.  We toured homes and amazing things await us.  We set stakes and dragged around twine, because I needed to “see” it even more.

Yesterday, we drank a bottle of vine while walking around our fabulous bit of land.

Trees will go down, but they will give us the light and warmth to live and breath in a new way.  Gardens will be planted and feeders will be filled.  The warmth of our new floors will sooth our soles.

I cannot wait.  I cannot wait.

Funny thing.  Most people empty their bookshelves and then sell them.  Not so in this home!  My better half has been hard at work emptying the shelves all week.  He has made numerous trips to the library to donate books; the thrift store to donate books and flotsam; to school to drop off office supplies; and the shredder has been full steam ahead.  There is one more shelf to empty and that will happen today.  Most of the stuff on the last bookcase belongs to moi.  We’re back at it.

He also procured a massive pile of moving boxes from a friend’s recent move.

So, once again, I am faced with the daunting task of what goes into those boxes.  Why do I save what I save?  Why do I toss what I toss?

At work the other day, I was consumed with making seed-paper castings.  I had blenders whirring with paper scraps and cotton linter mixing beautifully into ginkgo leaves and such.  Seeds were dropped into each form, water sopped up, and it was so engrossingly wonderful.  My fellow art instructor came into my room and was doing her thing.  I stopped and said, “Can you imagine having a studio and just doing whatever you wanted to?”  We both sighed.

That’s the spirit I want in my new home.  These are the luxury items I need; water, a bit of space and the chance to play with fibre, shells. driftwood, reeds and more.  It made me rethink the house plans and I think they’re amazing.  The onus is on me to keep all the garbage off of the counters.  When either of us wants to use the counter space, I want it to be ready!  Frugality in possessions.  Touch something once and deal with it.

Open, clean space.  Frugality.  Carefully selected treasures on display.  Peace.

Time to get the ball rolling; downhill, at top speed.  However, the red tape rears its ugly head and we wait.

A million years ago, we lived for a time in a 15 1/2 foot travel trailer.  It was so much fun and such an adventure. (see Feb 10) On occasion, we would luck upon a park that had a hose hookup and we had the luxury of running water in the tiny kitchen sink.  Did I say kitchen?  15 1/2 feet, remember…wasn’t exactly a kitchen.  There was no bathroom.  The frig froze most everything.  The kitchen table turned into the bed.  We loved it.  I cried when we had to sell that jewel.

Now, we are looking for another trailer; something to live in while the house is being constructed.  As we look through the lists of trailers for sale, we are stunned by the prices, sizes and choices.  The other day, I looked at one with a fireplace!  Are you kidding me?  Hot tubs, showers and tubs, full kitchen, rooms with doors, wine rack…amazing, appalling.

Or, as has been suggested many a time, we could live in a yurt.  Well, the only problem there is that I do not want to live in a yurt.  No thanks.  Maybe down the road a yurt would be a nice getaway, visitor destination, secret hiding spot, reading area, whatever, but not now.

We have also lived in tents.  Yup.  Tents.  The cats lived in the trailer; two kids in one tent and us in the other tent.  Houseplants along the side of the road.  Black and white tv in the tent.  I don’t think I’m up for living in a tent, although, the current slog of tents is as over-the-top as the trailers!  Yesterday, we saw a Coleman coffee-maker!  That, to me, is crazy…good, but crazy!

I could crawl underneath a tree and unfurl a sleeping bag.  That little spot in the picture might work.  I could run a hammock between trees.  I could build a tree-house  (ditto the ridiculous accoutrements they now embrace).

And so, we wait.  I have my gritty fingertip on the boulder.  I am ready to nudge it towards the edge of the cliff.  10, 9, 8, 7, 6….