It's only been a short time, but I'm pretty sure I've fallen for this place all over again. It seems pretty decadent, in a way, to get so much out of one thing over and over again. But then, when you set your expectations low chances are better you'll be pleasantly surprised. And that about sums up how we're feeling most of the time right now; stumbling around, goofy grinned and smacked-silly-happy. We're pleasantly surprised with the whole she-bang.
If I'm acting completely obnoxious, then I'm sorry. Actually, I'm not sorry. Actually, at this very moment, Jeremy is sitting on the couch beside me reading an article from a local magazine that featured the education system of our new little "town" in its pages. It's a bleak reminder of some of the disadvantages of this area. As a person in the thick of education politics and policy - maybe I should care. No, I should care. But then.....
With this front porch view?
And this bedroom window sunrise?
Like all things, the novelty will fade. But until then, it's pretty spectacular to see a place. Again. For the first time. Again. We knew about the school system, and bad roads, and "interesting" neighbors - well before we signed the title work for the property. You weigh your options, you take good with bad, find a view you like, shrug your shoulders and then - well, I guess you just hope for the best. I think it has a little to do with imagination or optimism. Either way, so far, thinking outside the proverbial box has paid a huge return in intangible currency. You've got to love the prospect of a place to love a place like this. And, oh boy, do I.
This weekend we turned the crooked purple shed into a boarding house for wayward horses starting with one tenant whose owners needed a spot until they can build a suitable enclosure. Layla is a wild-eyed yearling. She whinnies often, and it's thrilling to hear a horse prancing around just beyond the house.
A house in the forest and a horse in pasture was, for a long time, as likely as spotting a unicorn at the hay bale: not very likely. Seriously, I spent the entirety of winter-spring 2011 doubting that living at the land was anything beyond a myth I'd created. And now there's a horse in the pen, a house on a hill. One girl leaning on a cedar post looking at the dirt and seeing grass. A myth turned from fiction into fact.