Monday, January 18, 2016

When I first saw our lot, it reminded me of an enchanted forest. It was mid-summer; trees, moss and other wild plants carpeted the ground, birds were chirping and sun filtered on down through the pines needles and maple leaves. Pure perfection. Of course, we would have to take down many of those trees to allow room for a house, but not so many that it lost its character. So we walked through the lot and began tagging trees.

Darren and I took down as many as we could ourselves. At which point I learned to use a chainsaw! Me! I was terrified of it kicking back and ripping apart my face. I got over it pretty fast though after realizing that it would take twice as long with only one of us chopping. (I kinda like to get things done!) So, if you need something cut with a chainsaw, I am now fully qualified and I'd be happy to help! 

But we knew we needed to leave the big ones to the professionals. That day I sat in the safety of the vehicle with Violet while the kids were in school and watched in wonder as they did their work. At the end of it all you could not see the forest floor! This was the first time I remember feeling some concern. I did not anticipate the wake that would be left behind. Logs wider than my arm span lay everywhere, as we waded through slash waist deep. How would we ever clean this mess up?

We spent the next few Saturdays, children in tow, along with another we kidnapped for a day - Jacob, the big boy, Bragg, cleaning up what seemed an impossible mess. But with the help of Darren's equipment, many hands, and many more hours we ever so slowly began to see the light of day again. The wood was separated into piles of waste, fire wood and logs for the house. The good wood will be used for our flooring and fencing, posts and beams, counters and porches, and wooden planked walls, and anything else we can think of! And firewood makes a mighty fine pile for playing on.

 The second time I remember feeling concern was when the days began to darken and the winter sun sank lower in the sky. Right now we are on the south side of the mountain, but over there "home" is nestled in at the base of the north. Sunshine through grey sky on the west coast is a beautiful thing. But those weak winter rays do not make their way through northern tree tops. After worrying about it for longer than I should have, I reminded myself that the deal was done, we were moving there regardless. Peace came, without sunshine. For that I will have to be patient and wait and remember, "No winter lasts forever, no spring skips its turn." (Hal Borland)

That left the logs much too big for us to move with small equipment and - the stumps! 

Time once again to call in the pros.

Enter the third wave of panic. It quietly accompanied the start of a new year. A year sure to be filled with much change and uncertainty. Of upheaval and disorder. Of packing and moving, and packing again. Of work, and work, and a whole lot more work. I'm not entirely sure I have it in me. 

But then there was mud. Everywhere. Perfectly squishy:) Children are having fun getting dirty and progress is being made. This will be a year filled with adventure. I could do with an adventure!

Stumps were removed!

Boys played with toys.

 Pale green pants with nobody inside them were unearthed! 
(Dr. Seuss fans unite;)

Spring is indeed on its way - sunshine is sure to return!
And I tell myself the adventure has begun - dig deep.

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