Sneak Previews.

Views during my current drive

We are about to enter the first spring month, yet I have absolutely no idea what happened to February. It came and went.
As it slowly concludes this week, the sense of spring hangs unmistakably in the air.
Winter is far from done, still I love those covert sneak previews of what is yet to come.

The first thing I noticed as I set out on my long daily commute this past Monday, after almost fourteen days break - was the increase in light.
Our day has gained over three hours since the winter-solstice, a fact that can clearly be perceived during my drive. It's onset is by now undertaken no longer under the veil of darkens, but with views of breathtaking sunsets, which slowly grow into rainbow coloured skies, turning only to dusk as I arrive at my destination. Additionally, this past week the evening twilight was dispersed by an alluring full moon rise and the silver disc accompanied me all the way home, illuminating the road with its platinum shine.

Detail from our Garden

I love this time of the year, when a certain awakening is about to commence and a hidden joy rises in nature.
This spring once again, a novel environment awaits to make my acquaintance. The garden of our new home is currently tranquil and it comes across as an undiscovered treasure. Having had to leave it almost immediately after our move, it took me almost two weeks before I actually stepped out onto the lawn and took a walk around our house.

As I did so, momentarily I recollected my father, many years back, as he walked out barefoot onto the small yard of my parents first house, in midwinter, just to feel the ground beneath his feet. I recall he was overwhelmed by the feeling of ownership.
I felt the same giddy feeling and additionally I felt as I was about to walk into a secret, locked room, only it was on the outside. Walking about, I rediscovered my old pots left on the side of the house by the movers, surveyed the empty greenhouse, the shed and the multitude of bushes, shrubs and trees I yet have to name. Coming full circle into our garage, where my husband was sorting through the many boxes still waiting to be unpacked, I had to share with him my first impressions after surveying our property. He smiled and put his arm around my shoulders, looking at me with those hypnotic grey-blue eyes that always seem to disarm me. "This will be good..." he said as he kissed me and I felt happiness envelop me like a warm blanket.

The Garage

I love him endlessly and forever.
I love him despite the fact that the last three weeks saw us arguing more then during the whole time we have known each other. Being pushed to our limits, first with an endless move followed by a vacation that was anything but relaxing, we met each others dark sides, those that crawl out of the woodwork when going gets tough. It truly put our affection for each other to the test, but overall I think we passed with flying colours. Being able to laugh and joke about our disputes after they have passed and realizing that the best place to fall asleep is still in each other arms, we know we are exactly where we are suppose to be.

Giving you a sneak preview of my new home, I can conclude that it often reminds me of my old white house on the hill. It lacks the stunning views, yet I find myself smiling constantly as I come across something that brings back memories of my past residence. Even the kitchen sink is identical.
Just as much as I loved my white house, I am in love with our new house and I will only grow to love it more with time.
I love that it feels like our home. I love the way we spend our days trying to decorate the space slowly and respectfully, combining our belongings, making them fit together. Surprisingly, they do fit very well.
I love the vaulted ceilings, large windows and open rooms, which are nevertheless designed to create cozy and intimate spots, such as around the wood burning stove, gathering a family together. I relish in the luxurious inventory, the large walk in closet, the combined pantry - wine cellar, the modern materials and the privilege of two large bathrooms, having no longer a need to rise an hour earlier to enjoy a morning bath.

Old pot in the greenhouse

I have waited a long time, much longer than most people do, to experience certain golden, defying moments in life. Instead, they all happened quickly, leaving me a bit bewildered at times.
In a very short time span I found the love of my life and relocated, very soon thereafter I became a wife and a step mom, a landlord, a property owner and furthermore, I am about to change employment.

While I have enjoyed this roller-coaster ride, at times I am almost waiting to exhale, exhausted and tired, holding my breath, bracing myself for all that is still ahead.
But I guess that is life and as I learn to roll with the punches, passing the points of no return, there is a certain exhilaration in all this accomplishment.
There is a sense of being alive.

Endings And Beginnings.

Our Old House

In exactly two weeks, we will leave this house, never to return.
It is an old rental, bearing an imprint of the seventies, when it's cornerstone was laid. It is drafty, with faulty electrical wiring, outdated appliances and in a desperate need of a makeover. It is too small and too impractical.
Still, I can not help but feeling slightly sentimental saying my good byes.

It has been my home for the past eighteen months and my husband spend seven years here, watching his children grow from babies into teenagers. As much as our departure touches me, it must move him in a quite profound way, despite the fact that he at all times viewed it as a temporary place of residence, while he waited for his life to resume after his marriage fell apart.

I often mention in my writing how happy I am and how meeting the love of my life became the onset of my personal golden age.
However I often forget, that just as much as he changed my life around, I also changed his. I brought his way love, affection and a sense of happiness he searched feverishly for. Additionally, I came with immense possibilities, changing his life style, offering him and his kids a better reality.
None of us could have afford the beautiful house we are about to move into before we met - together we have redefined each others reality.

Moving Boxes

Everywhere I look, there are boxes and crates.
It is staggering to realize that so many items can get collected in such a small space, over such a short span of time. My presence here must have doubled the number of our possessions, despite the fact that most of what I own is still in storage. Thus I can not help but feel a sense of dejavu, recalling how many times in my past the conclusion of a move turned into a disposal frenzy, when one just simply wants to throw everything away and finally be done with it.
Still, it will be exciting to once again gaze at all my belongings, using these to decorate and style our home. What a joy it will be not to have to feel like a guest any longer - even though no one ever made me feel as such here.

Once again I look at the old birch tree outside our windows realizing I will never see it green again. I will never again see the bloom of the multitude of plants and flowers I planted last spring and summer - they will instead bring enchantment to the new tenants.
I will miss the garden more than anything - particularly the scented lilac in the corner of the backyard and the ruby coloured hollyhocks, surrounding our terrace, those almost signature flowers of this house.
However I take comfort in the excitement of discovering a new green spot, the natural haven surrounding our new house. It is full of fruit trees, houses several raised planting boxes and even has a small greenhouse.
I know in no uncertain terms that comes summer, this is where I will be seeking comfort and solace during my solitude.

Therefore all that really remains is to say thank you to this latest home, which offered me shelter and made me feel safe. It has earned its righteous place in my very personal collections of the many locations, where I have laid down my hat.
The beauty of every end is that it is followed by a new beginning. Thus once again I move on, feeling endlessly excited about what is yet to come.

My Favorite View - click image to enlarge

Reflections In Snow.

View From Our Kitchen

I sit once again in my favorite spot, in our kitchen, looking out onto the bare birch tree, as it stands so very still in the snow. I try to savour the stunning wintry images as much as I can. Despite the fact that the alabaster blanket is several feet deep, a major thaw is on its way, robbing us most likely of all hope for a white Christmas.

I have mixed feelings about snow - driving in it is a true nightmare and the adrenaline rush cutting through my body as the car wheels start sliding uncontrollably is the most terrifying feeling imaginable. Add some evening fog to the mix and I become paralyzed with fear. Night fog is in my opinion the most horrid condition to drive in. Especially thick fog banks that come out of nowhere and force me to slam on the brakes as I suddenly hit a wall of total nothing and visibility of zero.

Views During My Daily Drive

Thus in the past two weeks, following snow storms that made it impossible for me to set out onto my long daily commute, I have been confided to the house for some days here and there. Yet, as the roads cleared and the sun came out, the drive to work turned into an enchanting and visually stunning experience and the views of the snowy landscape touched me almost to tears...
Therefore I will truly miss the snow, as it illuminates the darkest months of the year, creating so much beauty. Almost every morning this past week as I sat behind the wheel, the only though occupying my mind was "I wish I had my camera with me and I wish I could stop and capture all this endless brilliance of nature and winter at its very best..."

With barely a week left to Christmas I wonder where the time is going.
I find myself so out of it and am becoming increasingly disorganized.
I, who used to live by routines and had every week meticulously planned in advance am now living from day to day, where my reality is improvised and spontaneous. My life is a wonderful mess and there is an intensity in it that makes me feel alive.
Carrying boxes with our Christmas ornaments out of our garage the other day, falling knee deep into the pristine snow in the process, the sight of the garage interior made me gasp. So much stuff! And it all has to be sorted out, packed into boxes or disposed off within the next month. It will be a difficult task to do in the midst of a cold winter.
Perhaps the thaw that is coming is after all heaven send.

Our Decorations Detail

Later, when I decorated the house, it struck me that this was the last time I did so here. Next December, I will be decking the halls in our new home. As always, I felt nostalgia grasping my heart - every ending is sentimental and everything that concludes usually comes across as bittersweet, no matter how much we look forward to what is to come.

Sometimes I lie awake late at night, when everything is so very still. My mind starts racing, my thoughts run like wild horses. Facing two mortgages in the future, how will that go?
Being a landlord, I am still connected to my past through the white house on the hill. It is an odd feeling, knowing there is a property out there that belongs to me on paper, yet which I never see, only maintain. Here and there something breaks and I am asked to repair it, which means I make a call and a craftsmen is send to the house. It has been months since I last visited the property that I own. The other day, sending a Christmas card to my tenant, writing my old address yet another name on the envelope, I experienced a truly surreal moment...

Our Entrance

For most of my adult life, I have been alone.
Every problem, every decision, every hurdle - I had to overcome them and solve them on my own. That notion still envelops my being and I still become anxious and apprehensive about the difficulties that the future holds.
Yet as time moves on, I am slowly learning to live in the present, something my husband is greatly proficient at. His smiling face and loving arms reassure me at all times that I am no longer alone.

Taking risks and taking action -  these are what brings us forward, enriching our experiences and our perception. However hard it is for me to accept that the uncertainty of the future is the only certainty there truly is, simultaneously I am realizing that this very fact is the essence of a rich, full life in progress.

View Of Our Backyard

 

Empty Rooms...

Last Candle Light

Empty rooms...
That is the last image of the white house imprinted in my memory.
Yet, also smiling faces of my new tenants ready to move in.
A deliciously melancholic mix.

Nevertheless, I have now left my former home behind, in the hands of a new family.
But not before I spend one very last weekend there getting it ready for the new occupants.
I was very appropriately alone, as my man was once again out of town through his work and this final stay was exactly as I envisioned it would be; strenuous, endless work mixed with wonderfully bittersweet recollections.

The house parted with me in style - I got to see a magnificent sunrise and a stunning late fall sunset. I watched a large red moon rise in the north and I enjoyed the warmth of the fire and the beautiful westbound views - all for one last time.
Finally, I lit one last candle in the old lantern, the one that once - those eighth years ago - held the first candle light when I moved in...

I got to say my good byes and now it is time for a new wonderful chapter in my life to start, one that I have been waiting for so long - my whole life it seems.
And I am looking forward to share it with all of you.

Sunrise, 12th Of November

Sunset, 12th Of November

Almost Full Moon, 12th Of November

November Rose.

Those of you who have ever been moving know that it comes across like an endless process. Particularly the ultimate phase, when one is almost done and then again not quiet yet and when long days turn into late nights and all that remains is total exhaustion.

I am in that last phase right now and thus I have not been able to visit any of your lovely places, for which I apologize. I hope to do so as soon as my life returns to a somewhat familiar routine, which will be shortly.

The house is though now almost empty. It's rooms echo my footsteps and the music streaming out of the radio, reminding me of the time when I moved in. Serendipitously this was also in the month of November, thus I feel my time there has come full circle.
As I was collecting the last of my potted plants from my back terrace the other day, just when dusk was settling over the neighborhood ending a foggy, drizzly late autumn day, I had to pause for a moment as a feeling of familiarity overcame me. The place came across so barren and deserted, so empty of life, just like it did those eight years ago.
Then I saw it.
A single November Rose blooming in all its splendor on my old rosebush, this late in the year, when everything else in nature seems lifeless.

It came across as a beautiful sign of hope and a sweet fragrant gift which the house bestows upon me as I say my farewells. A miracle of nature confirming the fact that everything in life is truly connected.

(I managed to take these two snapshots with my old Nikon Coolpix, which I had with me, just before it run out of battery.)

"U-haul".

Once again that time has come. I am now moving all my possessions, being in the process of packing all I own into boxes and hauling my belongings into storage, in close proximity of my new residence. I do this not alone however, but with the help of a pair of very strong and capable hands, belonging to a man that stole my heart and who has brought my way incredible happiness.
And who has given me a new home.

The white house on the hill is about to become definitely abandoned by me, as a new family is moving in - if only as tenants. New life is going to be housed within its walls, as the rooms will resonate with laughter of children and feelings of love. This notion calms my mind and lifts my spirits, infusing me with a content that thrills me on so many levels.

The past week has therefore seen me hard at work, as I (we) packed and sorted out and mostly disposed of all that junk that I have collected over the years.
It was incredibly liberating.

I have moved numerous times in my life. As a child, I was uprooted on many occasions by my parents, who possessed (and still do) the heart of gypsies and an adventurous mind. This must be qualities that I inherited as well - I have likewise traveled the world and have laid down my hat in many countries (and even two continents). Thus one can say I am at this point quiet proficient at relocating. Still, it does not get any easier and the stir of emotions is very much the same.

There is something very sentimental about ending something, no matter how much we long to see it end. It is a very odd sensation, when our dreams do come true. It feels highly exhilarating, yet concomitantly there is that feel of anticlimax, as if there is suddenly a void left behind in our perception, until we establish new desires and dream new dreams.

Thus currently I experience mixed emotions of excitement and happiness, yet as well a slight sting of melancholy and maybe a certain gentle sadness, as I part with my former home.
My white house on the hill has seen me through an important part of my life, one that has been filled with unforgettable moments and an immense personal growth, bringing me here where I am today. It has given me shelter and provided me with a safe haven, during my perpetual quest for happiness. It has seen me age almost a decade, through such intense years that defined me in a very profound way.

I embrace this recent change, because it feels good and so very right, something that is confirmed to me undoubtedly by each new day. I do not know what the future will bring, nor am I willing to contemplate that, as I relish in that uncertainty.
All I have is my past, which fills me with no regrets and my present which fills me with excitement. It instigates in me a thrill about what is yet to come, as I embark on a journey of a new fulfilling personal era.

Twenty One Grams.

There is a theory, somewhat controversial and often discredited, which proposes that when a human being passes on, the body weights exactly twenty one grams less then when alive. Thus it has been suggested that this is the weight of a soul.

I wonder, if one could weigh my white house on the hill today, whether it woudl be weighing less than when I lived there. As these days it certainly feels as if the "soul has left the building".

Selling a home is a strange process. No matter the reason, whether one wants to do it or is forced to, there is a certain feel of termination of life in this conduct.
I believe a home is created.
It is built out of love and affection and supported by people, by their laughter and tears and foremost by their presence. Once this is removed from a building, it becomes an empty framework, a lifeless construction, a foreign place.

I take very little pleasure in visiting the house these days.
I do it nevertheless - out of necessity - on regular bases and will continue to do so until it is sold. The selling however is not going all that well I am afraid, considering the financial crises that has spread once again through the world like an infectious disease.

Thus the house, that one place that once brought me joy, safety and comfort has now become a burden. A lifeless shell, a forced commitment, a financial affliction. It comes across like shackles around my ankles, keeping me imprisoned in the past, preventing me from moving on into my future.
It is today a far cry from the place I once knew and loved, so endlessly removed from my perception, demanding my care and draining my energy.

I never ever believed that I would feel these kind of emotions. They are a mixture of sadness, deep melancholy and a bittersweet recollection of another life all together. One that is only removed a few months in time, but decades in my perception.
It is a very odd realization and a truly shocking surprise.

Thus I linger there only for a moment.
Almost immediately upon entering I am enveloped by a feeling of being in a foreign place. My things are still there - I recognize all the furniture and the decor - but it does not feel at all cosy or familiar. Even the scent is different. I catch myself being in a hurry as I water the plants, open the windows, sort through the surface mail. Dust of the shelves, sweep the floor.
I simply can not wait to be on my way again.

In short moments though, when I gaze at the framed photographs of familiar faces and sit down for an instant, gazing out of my westbound windows at a stunning landscape and open sky - a wave of memories comes sweeping back.
But they do not stay with me, it seems they only pass me by, reminding me to remain thankful and most of all respectful.

They caution me to never ever forget the beautiful moments I once spend between these walls, together with all the people that helped me made it a home.

One day I will leave it forever.
It will become a shelter for someone new, keeping them happy and safe.
One day new life will move into the white house on a hill and bring back its soul.