Our first month in the new home has had some bumps and some valleys, similar to the view outside our window.
I don’t think it would do anyone any good to rehash the nightmare experience of the move and the RV ride here. It was the biggest strain on the family, emotionally, that we have ever experienced. I’d like to say that things are fine now, but we are still reorienting our hearts and minds to the reality of what occurred and how we dealt with it all. I will show the few highlights that made things bearable. One of the worst parts was saying goodbye to my son. He is 19 and has chosen, for the time being, to stay in Maryland with his friends.
The Toledo Museum of Art was a joy. Megan and I raced through in the hour before they closed for the day. We managed to fit in everything on the list I had compiled, but that still left a whole wing unexplored. I highly recommend spending an afternoon there if you ever have the opportunity. The two items that stand out the most from the many that we saw are Van Gogh’s Wheatfields with Reaper and Monet’s Waterlilies. They both had a surprise that isn’t captured in any of the photos I had seen. Van Gogh’s use of thick, almost sculptural painting was the first and the size of Waterlilies was the second.
We were tickled with Chicago’s Millennium Park, once we found it. The ice skating was a wonderful treat and respite from the stress for Megan. The Cloud Gate was a lot of fun to watch and we took way too many pictures of it.
This is Megan ice skating on the rink under the Cloud Gate.
This is what it looks like as you start to walk under the gate.
Dan and Megan at the gate.
The Badlands were supposed to be an overnight camp. Due to the unforeseen events, we were unable to do more than drive around and whisk through the gift shop. It was totally worth the extra hour or so that it added, however we thought we might be blown away or freeze to death as the weather was a bear. Dan has promised me that someday we will go back and see the Milky Way.
The house itself is lovely. We now own a house of Dark and a house of Light. Our old home was old and brown. This home is new and white. It is so white that the idea of cluttering it up with my usual hippie décor doesn’t fit, and I have left much of what I packed in the box. The mountains with pines, the sky with birds, and the yard with the creek all combine to make this a place of peace. We can step out onto the deck to hear the water gurgle past and hear the resident Raven tell us of his conquests.
Megan got a telescope for Christmas, and we have gone out several nights to stare at the craters on the moon and name the constellations. We haven’t had much snow, other than what was already on the ground when we arrived, and I am told that is unusual. The snow here is extremely dry, as is the air itself. We spent the first two weeks being constantly thirsty and itchy from it.
I had the spinning wheel with us in the RV, and when we arrived, I went about setting things up for a pleasant space to work. I can’t ask for a better view, and was able to sit and ply my first handspun. I washed it and dried it, and am now about 30 rows away from being done a Citron with it. I gave up on this pair of socks, as I just wasn’t feeling inspired.
Here is the yarn I plied hanging to dry.
We have no internet services unless we drive into town, so my pattern business remains on hold. I suppose I should take this time to design some more patterns, but I haven’t had the focus yet. The move has rattled so much of how I think and live, that it may take a little longer to adjust. We are getting a huge amount of reading done, and we have begun to explore the land and the creek. I have taken it upon myself to start cataloguing all of our trees with Megan's help. The creek has been crossed. First by me, in a daring escapade, and the second time two days ago with Megan. We are learning to live in the relative wilds with curiousity and joy at the new discoveries.