April has been an interesting month. I have been looking forward to the arrival of May, mostly because it signaled, in my mind at least, the beginning of the end, the countdown to returning home. Of course things are never quite so simple. I learned yesterday that my return will be delayed, and so I ended April with a bit of a whimper, and a need to pull inward for a bit, a need to resettle my rapidly fraying nerves.
But there were good things in April as well.
- I reconnected with this blog after a month-long sabbatical. I believe the break, and may own process of remodeling and reconstruction, of uprooting and reconsidering, has given me new focus that is reflected here as well as elsewhere in my life.
- I committed to posting daily, or almost daily, updates on Instagram. This works for me personally, as a way to focus on good things happening, and occasionally not so good. I see the two formats, Instagram and Blog, as different aspects of a personal journal/blog/scrapbook and I keep that I will maintain this format at least for a while. I am trying to avoid duplication between the two sites, but so far that has not happened, and avoiding all duplication may be an unrealistic expectation, just as avoiding duplication and repetition in life is unrealistic.
- I finally removed the old subscribe button and added a "subscribe by email' on the side of this blog. I should probably add a link to Instagram as well.
- I've settled more into being comfortable with myself, who I am and who I want to be. This means that I am also far less concerned with what anyone else thinks. That realization and self-acceptance, has allowed me to become something more of a social butterfly than I had ever thought possible. I'm still an introvert, but I'm also definitely a social introvert. And no that is not a contradiction in terms.
- Many plants that I put in last spring, unsuspecting as I was of the impending disaster area that my yard would become, survived the winter and the demolition and reappeared this year, a joyful reminder that life carries on.
I planted the both the iris tectorum (at the rear) and the other plant with purple flowers last spring. I don't know what the busy plant in front is, with the small purple flowers, but I love it. Luckily I know where I got it, so I may have to take a snippet of the plant with me when I go shopping for more. Much as I would like to be playing in the small garden bed now, I have been forcing myself to hols back. As you will see below, too much is yet to happen. And yet the blooming of the garden gives me great joy, and this small side bed is the one off-limits area of the garden, a constant source of renewal, and a reminder of both what my garden once was, and what my new garden might be.
In fact, I was actually looking at a photo of last year's garden earlier this week, when I was re-reading a post from April 2018. I remember the garden fondly. and I suppose it is a good sign, a sign of my increasingly equanimity and recovery from the shock of upsets that started this project, that I no longer despair at what was lost but am beginning to look forward to what may someday be. (a long someday in the future I might add).
But of course that garden disappeared in November and much has changed in the intervening months, and although I am thrilled with my contractors and the increasingly evident results, the process has been more than challenging. I am now at the point where I sometimes feel stretched thin, nigh unto snapping, balancing my joy with the results against my own almost permanent state of high-strung nervous overwhelm. Of course I won't snap. I am more resourceful than that. But my limits have been tested, and, at this point, I occasionally feel like every nerve ending, physical, emotional, psychological is at the point where it will soon vibrate at some frequency that I cannot control. And then I calm. The garden helps me calm. The small progresses. Instagram is good for that. An ongoing record of my happy places.
This was the front yard Monday morning. A little over half of the driveway had been removed. The remainder was removed Monday afternoon (shown below). And now we start the process of replacing the hardscaping. To me this looks like progress. The house is no longer surrounded by a shattered driveway, deep clay-filled trenches, and piles of gravel. The outside work will not be finished by the time I move in. The house itself is closing in on finishing time, but the yard is just beginning. I have come to terms with the idea that my five-year plan became a one-year plan. I may need four years in recovery.
If I had known all this, would I have started this project? The kitchen appliances were failing and needed to be replaced. One reason I bought this house was to marry my love an old house with the kitchen of my dreams. Still, had I known, would I have bought this house? Probably yes. I fell in love with this house and I wanted to do this. I have no one to blame but myself. That said, there is a big difference between knowing in one's head that things may get out of hand, and actually living through the experience when they do. The entire experience is certainly forcing me to focus far more closely on what is important and what, quite simply, is not. We'll see where that leads in the long run.
At the same time, exciting things are happening, and I hope the excitement begins to overtakes the overwhelm. Between the time I started this post and the time I finished, I was once again at the house. The countertop was installed in the guest bathroom. I love how it is turning out, love how the warm matte black of the soapstone fits with the black cabinet and the Mexican tile. I love the texture of the stone surface itself, it just calls out to be touched, to be caressed. I wanted to just stand there and pet it. I find the tactile appeal of the stone itself, its textured surface, its veins and lines to be very warm and calming. It may not be the most practical of vanity surfaces, but this is just a guest room, not the main bathroom, so it will not get heavy use.
When I don't have guests, this may just be one of my calm places. I can stand here, fingers gliding across the sensuous warmth of the stone, looking out the windows on the neighborhood I love, at my neighbors walking their dogs, and let my tensions melt away.
