And They're Coming Around, He's in the Lead!

We attended a big state fair recently and the children watched a race- a horse race. It wasn't with riders on the backs but it was with carts and they were fascinated. We watched them practice and began to see who was connected and close to their horse and enjoying the animal/human connection and who was driving the horse like a beast.
The look on their faces, their stance in the rig and just the energy around each horse and driver said so much. And my eldest daughter turned as the announcer ran through the fast talking description of the racers when they set off and said, "I don't get it- are they auctioning them?" I laughed realizing that he sounded quite a lot like an auctioneer and explained that no- he was the announcer and it was a race so he had to speak quickly. With all the seniors around dressed up a bit, I wondered what this looked like 50 years ago- 80 years ago. You could taste the nostalgia in the air and it made my skin prick with anticipation.

Then we visited the barns where we watched the care and connection put into the 4H dairy cattle show. It was wonderful. Again that connection between humans and animals and how much connection we can have- or not- as the case may be. I fell in love with a cow there- I really did- a smoky grey Brown Swiss who was a few months old at most and sweet as frosting on a cake. I wanted to load her into the minivan and take her home. But I didn't.
There was also the horse pull which we could only tolerate for about 30 seconds before we had to walk away feeling slightly ill. I have been around horses for a good chunk of my adolescence and the treatment the horses received by the man in the ring made my stomach roll. My son walked away and said it was awful and the girls were upset at seeing the struggle and hard work the horses put in while the man behind them cursed and yelled and hit them with the end of the reins.

Thank goodness that cattle show helped renew our faith in the human-animal connection as we watched the boys and girls bring their calves and cows around and around while the judge worked hard to make a decision.
This event only drilled home even more the need for our own barn and some 4H animals- a real homestead. So I drew up a plan and submitted my application for the pole barn we want to build in the Spring-- and brought it to Town Hall. I attended the city planning board meeting in case they had questions and waited to see what they would decide- they teased me a bit in the neighborly good-natured way they have in this wonderful place and then- BAM- they approved it with big grins.

We are on the way.

Suddenly, I find myself wondering what animals souls will find their way to us- what will their names be and what personalities they will have?-- the ducks, the chickens, the geese- the goats and, possibly, a pig. Who knows? I can only hope and dream and manifest and cuddle my kids in close.

Oh the Lists and Lists

We have been so busy here- so busy in fact, that stealing time to write was near impossible. I was face down at around midnight most days after hauling and moving furniture and unpacking and rearranging-- but without having written about it all.
The boxes that arrived a week ago were sitting in the entry-- and in the bedrooms and in the hallways  --and the house needed the contents of those boxes to help ease it into home mode. It took a bit of doing but the girls rooms were done within a day or so of the boxes and then my son's. Then we worked on the common rooms- the front yoga/dance/stretching room, the living room and the dining room- the last two having swapped places since we moved in.

I began to feel despair when I saw all those stacks and it felt like no matter how much I unpacked and no matter how much I had given away, I still had so much. So much. This house is so large and spacious but finding a home for my art and craft supplies has been remarkably difficult so it is still tucked away in boxes while I orient myself and figure out how to maneuver the new issues of making space in so much space. I am used to making space within a small space to do so within a large one feels like a bigger challenge.

My mother and I worked hard on creating that feeling of home that we both thrive on and it wasn't until last night at around 11:30pm that I had an official bedroom space. It has been that difficult limbo stage for far too long- most of the craft and art supplies was in my bedroom and what is in reality a large room, felt tiny and cramped. But no longer- now I can sit in a room that asked to be sat in and be in the space with joy- and exhaustion- but still joy.
So, now I can find that elusive time to write again and I wanted to send the gratitude I feel for all of the hard work and kindness that has been heading my way.

The Radio Silence

I have been so busy recently, with the boxes and the organizing and days that don't hold enough hours-- and at the end, I fall into bed and am too tired to function. So, there have been a couple days of radio silence here and I apologize for that.
I also haven't had time to upload photos- or take new ones. So as this adventure unfolds, I am trying to find the space to write which is so important for my piece of mind and processing all that is happening -- and just share the thoughts and adventures here for anyone who wants to read about them.

Things are afoot - I have more than a few pieces of clothing now and there's a rumor that I might have a washing machine and dishwasher tomorrow- ah, the luxury!!
So many things to keep track of and to do with the children- like watching their first horse race- that was amazing and I will be getting those photos up soon! There is more to come- isn't there always??

The People In This Place

Barbara Kingsolver once wrote that you don't buy a house but the land it sits on- the house is transitory. I understand that-- though houses are like souls to me and I also buy for the house though I can see why the land, forever there, is so important and can so easily trump the house that sits on it.
I feel that way about places too. A town could be as pretty as could be but if the people are haughty or rude or dispassionate, well, then why linger there for long? If a town is ragged around the edges and perhaps not quite the pretty little place it could be but the people are kind and friendly and full of good heart and soul, well, that would be a place to settle in and really live. You don't go just for the way the town looks, the people are what make it up.

I moved from a city that was full of wonderful people. Granted, there was a tendency among some of the populace to embrace the "hipster" movement which was pretty hard to handle at times. -- But there were remarkable people drawn into that city, living out their lives and dreams and I was lucky enough to know them and share some of this remarkable life with them.-- And then I moved and wondered who would be waiting on the other end.
I have yet to fully explore the local populace but I have been so cheered by the good souls I have met so far. The neighbors were friendly and helpful from the first day- one even hugging me, so happy to have met us. Then there was the man who helped with our jungle of a property by bringing in his equipment to mow- friendly, well traveled, cheerful, liberal and (bless my lucky stars!) an old hippy. Next was the plumber, one of those quiet men who bring comfort and calm and the few words they speak are easy and mellow- he is a gem. And then, the electrician, kind, funny, full of good information and ready to show up if I need anything at anytime- with his handgun at the ready if necessary (this last was startling but comforting at the same time- something I never would have guessed).

All of them good hearted and honest- and, small towns being what they are, we have discovered that they know everyone and there seem to be a lot of cousin connections going on from all directions. So, far, what I was afraid was going to be the "boondocks" are, in fact, far from it- there is internet and cell phones and all the latest and newest. But I have stepped into a place where things are slower. The people rely on each other and live what seems so far, to be a slower and simpler life and though I haven't yet settled, I can see how one might slip into a life of simplicity here and I am ready for that.

Yes, Well, That Would Be the Well

This old house is old- it is older than my grandmother and was probably built around when my grandmother's mother was about to enter this world or maybe just after she arrived. Yep, it's getting along in years and I am so in love that I can't stand it.
There are stories here- so many of them and so many little questions that are lurking. When exactly was it built? Who built it and why? Was there a maid that traveled up and down those back stairs and who was she? Were there many children born here? Were there many who grew up here? Did they love this house too? Did it smile at them and revel in the life that filled its walls?
I wonder these things as I walk through it and try to focus on these bigger things when smaller issue appeal. Like when we lost water one morning.

When I say "lost", I mean that we had water- and then we didn't. Suddenly, the pressure dropped and a visit to the basement showed us that the water pressure was well below 10 when it should have been more like 50. Hm.
Well, we can't be without water- that would not be good. So, we called up the sweet kind soul who is our plumber- the kind of man you want to have as a neighbor, uncle and possibly grandparent- and he came over within about 10 minutes.
We hauled the top off and looked down into the original well over 100 year old well- it was beautiful. The stones stacked on top of each other and you could easily imagine the bucket that was once lowered down it to get the fresh water below. They had put a new well inside of the old one making good use of a deep, full well and it was updated with a new pump.

One by one we checked off the possible reasons for the lack of water- low water in the well. Nope. Bad pump. Nope. Clog in the line. Nope. Finally we found the issue, a small issue with the wires in the pump that were fixed in 10 minutes and just like that we were back online and the water was running well. No pun intended.
This just brought more questions to mind: Who fetched the water? Who dug the well? Did they make tea every afternoon and hum to themselves as they hung laundry out? Did they love this house and the land it sits on?
So many questions.

And Then We Went Exploring

We decided to explore. We loaded the children into the car and headed to the coast- only a short jaunt away and before we knew it- we were there. In fact, we seemed to have gone back in time. The town was small, not too touristy and still a working sea village with fisherman and boats but it was clean and welcoming- It was almost out of book.

We parked and walked, breathing in the fresh sea air and listening to the gulls and the children ran over the rocks and to the sand to let the incoming tide lap at their toes and then their ankles while they yelled and whooped and found tiny shells and stones. I watched and walked on marveling at it all- remembering pieces of my childhood. It was haunting in a truly delightful and startling way.

I stood there not sure whether any of it was real and felt a surge of gratitude that almost took me down on to my knees in the grass.

I saw the seaweed and remembered the low tide when I was little and the way the seaweed felt and smelled and how we would use it to wrap the mussels up or look through it for tiny crabs. Sometimes we would find a mussel and open it, using the meat on the end of a hook and line to catch crab- lowering the bait down into the waters as we knelt on the rocks above and waited until we felt the gentle tug of the crab and then carefully, so carefully, we would bring the line up and catch the crab and put it in a tide pool while we squealed and went back for more. Sometimes we would have 20 or more before we would gather them up and let them all go- the excitement of having caught them being far superior to anything else. And to get to the rocks where we crabbed, there were the rose bushes. Though I am sure they had roses at points in the year, I only remember the rose hips and how, one year, my younger cousin took them and mashed them with sea water and told me she had made a potion, a perfume for us to wear so we could be fairies. Who knew you could miss seaweed like that? That the very sight of it would bring back all of this and then you turn and there are the rose hips- and you are suddenly six years old and are overrun with wonder at the world around you. That must be what a soul retrieval feels like at the end- finding that little piece that was missing- the piece you didn't know was missing until you saw it and picked it back up and put it back where it belonged. 

I watched my children, their toes wet in the ocean of my youth and smiled. They pocketed shells while I pocketed a lost piece of myself.
I can only wonder what kinds of adventures are in store for us. Crabbing? Maybe. Fishing? That's already started. So many possibilities and I hold so much hope that they will be full of love and wonder.

Will they grow to love this ocean?- Down to the very seaweed that hangs like decoration from the rocks? With they stay or travel? Will they find a place they know to be home?
Will they walk past rose hips one day and remember this time and smile as a piece of themselves slides back into place?

And the Paddle Goes Up

It's time, I had to do it, so, I did. I loaded into the car with the children and my husband and we hit the auction house.
I milled around and tried to look seasoned and in control. I didn't care about that dresser that I really wanted- I didn't- really. And that pretty bookcase, couldn't give a rat's ass- about it. That's right, look at my ability not to be so attached that I enter into a bidding war. Oh yeah. No bidding war.
Then the bidding started and that auctioneer did such a good job doing his job that I was grateful none of the things I was interested in were up. By the time the pieces I liked went up, I was understanding him better and had watched enough to be cool when I finally raised my paddle. I even had that serious, "No" shake of the head down when he looked at me to see if I would go up in price as he spoke faster than anyone I had ever heard.

No, I wouldn't go higher than $9 for three typeset drawers for display so I shook my head looking as serious and seasoned as I could. $9 that's crazy- of course I've never seen them that cheap anywhere but my fear of reckless bidding was taking hold at that point.
I set my prices in my head and would not go over them, I promised myself. So, I didn't. Except when I misunderstood him about this really lovely bookcase that I wanted that was in really bad shape and I didn't want to go more than $15 on it but I didn't understand him and was up at $25 before I knew it and was relieved to be outbid by someone else who carted it away for $35.
Things move fast over there and if I had money to burn it would be a heck of a lot of fun to go to auctions. Seriously, that would be bad habit to kick- like gambling.

So, I will have to promise myself that I will only go if I need something and make sure that I have my pricing set in advance. I'm gonna have to give it another go though since there are steals to be had- giant antique mirrors for $5 and dressers for $10- seriously.
Maybe there are livestock auctions- there's something I've had a lot more experience with but I'm afraid there's a lot more concern there, perhaps I should shy away from those- adopting 2 llamas, 16 chickens, 42 ducks, a three legged pig, an elephant, four zebra and angry donkey would probably be what I came home with if I wasn't careful and then where would we be? Then again......