There’s something about a weekend spent at home with the right combination of productivity, communication, and relaxation that always warrants a good weekend badge, and this past one earned it.
To start things off, Ty managed to repair our septic pipe, and fill in the coffin-sized hole he dug by himself. This is a huge victory….and then we started on an unplanned project.
Though a beautiful blessing, there are struggles in living in a house with this kind of nostalgia. I’ve spent the past seven years, remembering this special home that I loved so much as a child. I’ve imagined my great grandmother giving birth to her babies here, the way I did. I’ve imagine the harvest and the preserves, and I’ve marked out places on our land that I’ve heard about in stories. I even taught my children about the wild strawberry patches because of those childhood memories of my own.
There is a part of me who wants to preserve this home, and restore it to its original state, and then there is the other me, who has to be rooted in logic, who has a family and a partner with ideas and he also needs to be heard. After all, it is our home.
For so long we didn’t touch any of the plants or gardens. I just wanted to savour and enjoy them they way they were. I love how the raspberries are evenly distributed around the barn, extending the berry season, with the berries on the east and south side available first, followed by the west and then the north. I love the old grape vines climbing the barn, some of which are thick enough to use as firewood.
I love the overgrowth of roses and the secret pockets of lily of the valley and Chinese lanterns that make their appearances, but the reason these plants have lasted for decades is because someone has been tending to them. Someone wasn’t afraid to prune and thin and relocate, the way I am.
The truth is, nostalgia is a painful emotion. It leaves us longing for something which no longer is, rather than grateful for each breath, right now in today’s beauty. And when we’re busy longing for the past, the present quickly passes us by, leaving it buried beneath vines and overgrowth, making certain we’ll be longing for the moments we’ve passed up while looking in the rearview.
So this weekend, we hacked and trimmed and made plans to relocate plants, plans to deepen the feeling that this home truly is ours. Completely exhausted and aching all over, we cleared away so much of the invasive buckthorn, hauled prickly brush, moved firewood, and began dreaming of the landscape come.
Enjoying where we are, but also, what’s to come…