Friday, February 1, 2013

The Morning Calm

When the house is quiet first thing in the morning, I think that I could live here forever.

I look off our back deck and see neighbors, getting ready for work. They seem like nice people, but they are busy, so busy, and I'll probably never know them.

But here, in on our little city plot, we are discovering new things all the time in this new life. We don't have a sled hill, but the toboggan flies down the stairs that lead to our backyard.

(yesterday's discovery)

It is still new, being here -- a first winter -- a barely-winter at that.

And I love how this house seems to warm in minutes. In our old house, we'd usually come home to such cold. We'd drink tea, pull on layers, turn the heat up and wait. Usually we were long in our beds piled high with blankets before we'd notice our noses weren't freezing.

So why can't we stay here forever? We could, I think. But chickens probably can't. A goat might not be welcome. I know -- I read those books too about keeping livestock in your suburban backyard, and it can happen, I'm sure, through fights at city council meetings and explaining to your children that a trampoline takes up the donkey's real estate.

But all that has a very Step 2 feeling to me right now.

I'm still enjoying everything this house has to offer that our previous home did not. I still wake up grateful, and fall asleep happy that we are here. It isn't perfect, but it is 100 percent home ... for now.

This is a good place to launch dream.

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