The process of relocating our home has been one we have endured quite often since we became a family. Every time I am confronted with decisions of what to take, what to leave. Every time the beginning of this process infused me with energy, much like a cleanse, and every time once through I wondered what part of my brain was deluded into thinking it was “awesome” to move again.
Moving this time feels a little different; actually moving from BC to Ontario was such a good change for us. Not one I anticipated, but one that I was pleasantly surprised to witness. This time the move, almost within the confines of the same city we were living in, feels like moving miles, if not centuries, away. Because it is such a change of life, of predicaments, of priorities, of routines.
Here in this new house, I am confronted with things I have never, ever, had to think of. My water usage for example (a womanly worry which is already driving my husband nuts). Water comes from a well, with its loveliness and scarcity. The mere thought that there is an “allowance” of water makes you very aware of how many times you open the faucet, how long it takes to wash your hands or have a shower, how many times you flush the toilet. Although equipped with a dishwasher I plan to return to my old ways of washing all our dishes by hand. This time I am comforted by the view of a lovely bird feeder and many trees outside my kitchen window. Laundry scares the bejesus out of me, but I will manage. I do have to live here.
One more thing that seems to have an end: the internet. I know! This is a hard one to fathom. So far I have gone online like it’s nobody else’s business, upload photos without twitching a muscle, read blogs, check facebook, browse pinterest like there is no laundry to be done or messy shelves to clear; my evil ways have come to an end. Satellite internet, as hard as it was to obtain in this mere ten minutes out of the city, has an expiration date, a data quota, once you are done you are done. Oh the nightmares! But what if I discover a doll who must be photographed extensively, and shared with the world? Well, in order to keep my internet saddle full of bytes, I need to read less blogs, browse less pinterest, check facebook less often, and discriminate which photos to load. Heresy.
Another thing that plays an important chunk of my daily wonderings is the outdoors. All kinds of insects keep crawling inside. Born and raised in Mexico I am no stranger to creepy crawlers, however the abundance and persistence of these little widgets is something to admire if not confound the brain. Every time I look at something outside, it has two nature kingdoms to admire: both plant and animal. I discovered a white frog yesterday, I had never seen one. Life.
Contemplating the many simple homesteading opportunities this small chunk of land provides us makes my head hurt. Beekeeping and goat herding, apparently denounce how addicted we are to both cheese and honey. Three kinds of gardens will be plotted: vegetable and herb, medicinal and dyer. The first one, and biggest, will fill our bellies. The second one will perhaps provide alleviation to the attacks of nature and our ignorance when handling hammers and such, the third one will provide both doll-maker and offspring the opportunity to experiment and marvel at the many dyes available through nature. It bears to mention that none of these gardens will be planted this year, I don’t believe we have that much stamina left after moving.
Animal husbandry will be exercised, and quite shortly. Rumor has it that the family is looking for laying hens. The children want tamed chickens that can wear hand knit sweaters, while their mother just wants something with pretty colorful feathers to look at. The father insists in silly things like practical matters, and wants birds that can be cooked for soup once their egg-laying abilities have declined. Heresy.
Either way, you can find us outside most days. One banging shelves and furniture and trying to establish a woodworking shop. Another one, with pencil and paper on hand, writing lists, noticing children’s interests for future homeschooling opportunities, and pulling weed after weed; and two little girls, who couldn’t care less about anything but trying to marry the little boy across the street to one of them, while wearing wool felt tiaras and donning a towel for a cape. All grinning.
PS. My youngest just conquered knitting. We have tried a few times, her initiative (although it pays to encourage her when you see your own mother knitting all the time), with frustration and angry faces as results. But a few days ago, she asked again, we gave her chunky needles and soft yarn, she went about it like nobody's business. The tricky part that I wasn't able to explain to her likeness was made bright and simple by her knitting sister. I am beaming.