A Story Behind It All

 We are so fortunate to have two homes -- our old farmette in rural northeast Connecticut, and the cottage in Island Park. Maybe especially with the pandemic, having another place to go that's safe has been a soothing balm in a world out of control.

Of course, every so often we do think, well, maybe we should sell one of the houses. But that decision has been elusive, thus far, because we are too fickle. Sell the Connecticut house, that is a lot more work, with its couple acres and outbuildings and an old house that always needs something...but has so many memories and is meaningful because we saved it from the wrecking ball? Or, part ways with the seaside cottage, much less work, great neighbors, but rising tides and rising flood insurance?

The real story behind what to do is rooted more in the things I have, given to me by my parents, or inherited from relatives and friends, or favorite antiques found at flea markets or on the side of the road. Yes, they are just things but they are things that I enjoy and appreciate. Fact is I wouldn't be able to fit it all in one house. Both houses are small, 1180 sq. ft. and 860 sq. ft.

I think perhaps I will write about some of my favorite things and the stories behind them. Now to narrow that down....

COVID Life

We're now two years into the pandemic. The soul-numbing periods of isolation, fear for the vulnerable, grief for the young and mourning the dead has taken its undeniable toll. 

Yet we wait for the sunrise. We celebrate the mundane: decorating the mantles for Christmas, trimming the herbs that maybe this year will survive winter indoors, organizing a drawer full of old cards and photos. 

The television and social media bring more frightening news; music becomes a better option, as do Facebook sites like "Growing Up in the 50's and 60's". It's impossible to not look back wistfully, even if we were never inclined to do so before.

In the meantime, this day starts with the temperature barely above zero. The furnace is running continually and the woodstove is already heating the perpetually frigid north end of the house. Birds are busily visiting the suet feeder outside the kitchen window, a few brave chickadees and a downy woodpecker.

As my French Canadian grandmother always said, if you have enough to get by, food and a roof over your head, life is good.