spring part one

“things will go every way, but our way” would seem to be the prevailing theme of our lives for the last two years. recently, in a complicated and frustrating turn of events, we decided to move in a new direction in regards to our contractor/architect. unfortunately for us this means starting from scratch and waving goodbye to a year’s worth of planning and dreaming. we spent two days following this decision quiet in our disappointment. mourning the floor plan and the loss of time. kicking ourselves for not making the necessary decision sooner. we took one day to vent our anger to each other, finishing each other’s sentences and reaffirming our desire to always be straightforward with people even if you can’t count on them to do the same for you. and after that? we got to work, like we always do, brainstorming ways to make life here more comfortable. making purchases and changes that’d we’d been holding off on until the house was finished, because at this point only god knows how much longer we’ll call the trailer home. and because life is short and happening now. new plants with homemade wood round and plank tables to display them. a new mattress for our creaky, winter bones. a garden expansion in the works to include a covered picnic area and most convenient of all a washing machine under the carport. making it possible for us to stay home to do our laundry for the first time in over a year. the only mercy in it all being that is comes just as spring wakes the hillsides. emboldened by fire, wild poppies have invaded the snow peas. iridescent sage and raspberry shoots greet me every morning on my way to gather eggs and we spend most evenings underneath the stars. the birds have returned to the trees that survived. along with families of deer and anxious jack rabbits, we have ample evidence of skunks making new homes here (washing two dogs with an outdoor trailer shower is an adventure all it’s own). there’s color and fresh growth in almost every direction. we seem to find new pine tree shoots on every walk and can almost imagine, twenty years from now, a new forest having taken root. in those moments it always feels right to have stayed.

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