February 25th, 2004

serious Oracle

right, then...

I thoroughly intended to post about our house insection this past Sunday. Mayhap it's numbness, mayhap it's sheer exhaustion... I've got very little to say. Electrical crap will likely be dealt with, as will the issue with the sagging finished deck. As for the roof: it either will have to be replaced immediately or within three or so years.

I just want this house. I want to deal with having too much furniture, too many books and too much crap, and to find the solutions therein. I want to deal with having to get a lawnmower. I want to worry about having to get a snowblower. I want to have to figure out how to deal with fruit-bearing trees and touchy hemlocks. (heee! hemlocks!) I want to find out how long it takes to hike to the three reservoirs and make sure the neighbor who owns the land over which I'll be hiking becomes a friend. I want to use the firepit off the flagstone patio to full advantage: with good food and chilled wine under a midnight sky thickly strewn with stars. I want to learn my piece of land in all the seasons. I want to plant wisteria and lilac. I want this to be my home.

It's so simple at the heart of it. This will be my home. Let me write the endless checks and then GET OUT OF MY WAY. My home. Mine. My own. Go. Let me live. Let me find the light and the warmth. Go.
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    'The Boxer,' Carbon Leaf
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