I have been feeling that I straddle two worlds, I cannot fully occupy my city life and my country life. This feeling is disconcerting and I try my best to stay in gratitude and embrace the present moment. Each time we take the drive from Seattle to Idaho we take a bit of our possessions in boxes to be unpacked into the farm house. The apartment in Seattle holds less and less of us, while the farm house begins to fill up with our life time collections.
These are just simply objects of interest. I have always been attracted to old things. My tender side recognizes the value of age and use, of patina and the simple grace of a well-loved item. Bits and pieces of architecture are favorites items - reminiscent of times when artisans paid attention to detail and craftsmanship; a time when materials were natural in their origin, and things were made to last. Sometimes I wonder what will happen to these well-loved and valued items, when our bodies have become dust in the wind? I have tried to live my life with an emphasis on the internal/spiritual treasures. Knowing full well we take nothing of the physical with us into the inevitable parade of the soul’s march through time. So, what have I exercised of my spiritual strength, that will flower in the internal realities? Also, there is a part of me that values the beauty of objects and their ability to bring comfort to the physical life. There again the balance of focus, of the internal and the external, both tended and nourished - to have a life well lived.
We arrive late on Thursday and it has become a ritual to stop for a nice dinner in Moscow before we make the last of our drive home. The weather is cooperative and it is very nice to have sunlight longer each time we take the trip east. There is another several inches of accumulated snow on the ground. The roof over the porch, which dumps snow from its pitch, has totally blocked the entry to the house. The severe cold has frozen the pipes, even though they have been drained of water. A brisk fire started, will thaw them quickly. It takes a day of continued fire stoking in the old enamel stove, to remove the incessant cold from the house.
In all of our comings and goings, I have totally confused myself on dates. We have our usual get together with our friends from Moscow, planned for what I think is Saturday (but actually Friday). Rick spends a bit of time caulking the ship lap upstairs, and chopping wood, while I do several loads of laundry and prep for company. We are having roasted chicken and gravy over salt boiled potatoes, and wedge salad. At 5:45 I am texting them about their late arrival. As it turns out, we have made dinner for 6, for the wrong night. We will need to figure out how to repurpose the chicken, for dinner for the actual Saturday night get together. I roll with the punches.