Here is the house, taken with my elderly cell phone when I was moving the sheep fence in the bottom of the south pasture yesterday morning. As you can see, we do have a beautiful home, it’s just not yet finished. It will be finished next summer.
My brain just had to make an adjustment.
I realized that one factor that felt overwhelming about Nick’s imminent departure was the mess of stacked, waiting materials lining the driveway. Looking at the giant piles of lumber and roofing I’d felt hopeless. All of it would need to be moved before winter, to be safe from the weather and from the reach of the plow. When added to my already overwhelming list of projects, the heavy labor involved — not to mention all the decision-making — felt like a last straw.
Nick stopped by yesterday while Amy was finishing the last coat of polyurethane on the stairs. In six hours, the two of them cheerfully moved it all. The bunkhouse is loaded to the ceiling and more materials are stacked in the backyard to wait for spring, when work can start again.
I am greatly heartened. I have been battling chaos and mess for so long. Yesterday I rolled open one of the garage doors.
“Oh… my… God,” Amy exclaimed.
Both bays are stacked five feet high. By the crazed end of our move in June, items were simply thrown in on top. Winter boots, lead ropes, tools, bags of linens, cleaning supplies, scrap lumber.
It is definitely a disaster. However, after the flood every single dry space on the farm looked like this. Now it’s only the garage, the storage unit, the garden shed, the Kairos tool room, my office, and 1/4 of the basement. Once the mudroom walls are paneled (I’m working on it) and the floor tiled (Nick will tile when the walls are finished), a number of big items will be able to be put away. The rest of the mess I will sort through slowly over the long winter.
I can do it. The trick is not to get discouraged. (Don’t look up!) Nick’s decision to move on was a blow, but I’ve recovered.