The sun shimmers between streaks greying the sky and streams through my windows laying light and shadow across my table and floor. Alan Gogoll radio strums gentle rhythms through the air. The heater fan whirs. The humidifier gurgles. Tea steeps at my side and books and bibles, paper and pens lay strewn on the couch and ottoman. I chat with my grand and a friend in another city. The day's peaceful atmosphere settles over my heart. I am grateful, content in my quiet nook in the world.
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March 2023 I signed my name on a piece of land. By October, I had a walls-out house sitting on a foundation. And by the end of February, it was ready for moving in. Once we got going, things went rather fast; interior wall, electric, plumbing, insulation, sheetrock, mud-tape-texture and paint . . .
Many hands make light work and I am fortunate others lent theirs to help create what I now call home. "If you dream it, you can make it so"
- Walt Disney "I want to have a little house with sunlight on the floor, A chimney with a rosy hearth and lilac by the door." - Nancy Byrd Turner Sometimes, life requires we adapt and rise.
This Spring I met with an Architect that a good friend of mine referred to me. We discussed my building plans over coffee at a local bistro. And voila, she drafted a set of prints I intended to start developing this Autumn upon my return home from the radar site. However, two weeks into my three month long work assignment, I sustained a chemical inhalation burn. Whereupon, I boarded a plane, flew back to Anchorage, visited the Emergency Room and from there . . . I've experienced nothing but a medical odyssey and a struggle to regain my health. As I've logged a mere 263 hours to date on 2023's W2, constructing my home is not a reality this year nor even the next. You can imagine my disappointment and frustration at this turn of events. During my arduous recovery, I've driven to my property, parked my car on my newly excavated and very empty pad and sat there . . . dejected. Growing weary of my pouty frame of mind, I eventually committed to counting my blessings. And though I initially begrudged, my attempts at giving thanks have served to help shift my self-pitying perspective. For I've learned, through hard times, that with even a mustard seed size of faith accompanied with a modicum amount of gratitude I view my difficulties with possibility. Instead of woe-is-meing my way through this trial, I'm adjusting. I trimmed down my 1500 square foot home, with its south facing wall of windows and its peek-a-boo view of the lake and my much needed lofted art studio, to a humble 504 square foot shell. At some point in the future, I'd planned on placing a rental cabin on the property. For now, I'll hunker down here and call this home for a while. The work is just beginning, as evidenced from the photos below. But, with patience accompanied by a proper perspective my project will come together in due course. Life is gloriously messy, that's the deal. And how we work our way through the glory and how we work our way through the mess - this is key. To my surprise and delight, a few days prior to my travel date, I started breaking ground on my property. Due to my stringent schedule, I assumed improvements toward building my home would have to wait until next year. But the Excavator said he had a window of time between his larger projects for my smaller one.
So, he set to work moving snow and tearing up earth and felling trees and making a clearing for dump trucks to deposit load after load of gorgeous gravel. And voila - he created a swath where in my mind’s eye, I already see my dream in its completion. While staking out where I want the foundation, a neighbor stopped by and introduced himself, “You’re not wasting any time!” he observed. He then proceeded to share his family’s history and how they worked to develop our area. Another neighbor walked over to check on my progress and a friend drove by to be a part of the excitement. To her amazement, she knew my excavator - just one of the perks of small town living. After thoughtful consideration, I've decided to take on the roll as my own general contractor; which is proving fun, educational and surprisingly social. I’m designing my home and making big decisions on the style of doors and windows and rooflines and insulation and . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I am not sure I’ll get beyond putting in the foundation this season. If possible, I hope to have an enclosed structure before the weather turns this Autumn so I can put my hands to the finish work over the winter months I feel a most fortunate woman as sweet friends kindly offer referrals and helping hands in their enthusiasm for my little project. Life is so very sweet - even in its under construction phases. For years and for a range of reasons, anchoring myself with any sense of permanence to one location has held little appeal. I’ve chosen, rather, to navigate life nomadically. I lug my bags from one work site location to another. And when I fly back to town, I am in perpetual motion.
But relatively recently, a shift of mindset settled in and ‘home’ sounds sweet to my heart again. I’ve spent a considerable amount of time searching for a plot of soil to erect a humble abode. But if you’ve spent any time on the hunt yourself, you are aware that options are thin. It’s a Seller’s market; prices are high and there’s not much to be had of value for the Buyer. Back in September, I made an offer on a parcel that butts up against borough land; which the Seller quickly rejected. However, when I landed in Anchorage after this last work assignment, a voice message, from the Realestate Agent, informed that the Seller dropped their asking price and wondered if I’d like to resubmit. Today, a little piece of God’s beautiful creation bears my name. Sunlight filters through spruce and deciduous trees that cast long shadows across the snow. Up on a knoll, where I’ll build, in the not too distant future, I’ll cozy next to my fire and look out over the lake across the way from my . . . home. I’ve an arduous schedule this year and I work through the building season. Sadly, construction must wait until two thousand and twenty-four. But as I make progressions, I’ll document and share my journey here with you. Home! Life is so very good. |
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