I find myself beset with an ever-so-tiny amount of fears and doubts and second thoughts today, when it comes to leaving this place. I expect that's normal -- if anything in my life can be called 'normal'.
I also recognize that much of the doubts are due to the first really nice day of spring down here in the south. There are bluebirds in the yard, warm air coming in windows, loads of blueberries on the bushes. I keep thinking that since we now have two pair of nesting bluebirds in my neighbor's front yard, all it would take for me to have some in my yard next year would be a box out in the back yard, where I originally planned one three years ago. I'd really like that. It's just nostalgia, thinking of all the things I wanted this house to be three years ago when I bought it. Before reality set in. Before it became clear that dreams weren't to be realized.
Of course, I instantly forget the clamminess of both summer and winter, the fight against mold and mildew, the difficulty of keeping warm in the winter and the impossibility of keeping cool in deep summer. And the roof that's bound to spring a leak eventually.
It's not too late to change my mind -- but that's unlikely to happen, and certainly won't happen until after my monastery visits next week and next month. I expect this little bit of nostalgia will blow over once I drive away Sunday morning. As will the lack of interest in doing anything but sleeping.
I actually did spend a half hour out in the garden, getting the weeds out of the 'compost bed'. I'll need to do the garlic bed tomorrow. If I leave these until I return from Texas, they'll be much harder to clear. It felt good to be out working in the sunshine, anyway.
A work in progress
4 months ago