My hands are raw from some cleanser or other. Figures: Sunday is cleaning day.
I finish polishing the condo. We move on to the farm house.
It is such a beautiful day!
So this is it? Home until some time in the future when it is home no more? I watch Ed greet his cat as we drive up. Man and cat.
Then, very quickly, we turn our attention to the farmhouse. (And I have to say, this may well be the most flattering photo ever taken of it.)
Ed returns to the task of dismantling the chimney...
.... I take the vacuum to the second wave of bugs that lethargically crawl out when the weather turns warmer. And another bunch, and then another. How many hundreds winter the weather in this way anyway?
Ed is tired, but the chimney demolition is almost done. We then count light switches in need of repair and I throw ads onto Craigslist for anything that someone may still find useful.
The afternoon hours move forward. I work on classes in a room that has never ending sunshine.
And quite suddenly it is evening. Ready to head back to the condo? – I ask. Ed is worn out, I can tell. Too many bricks to dismantle and throw out onto the melting snow outside.
While he showers, I take a walk down the road. Around the bend, I so often come across deer. Yes, tonight as well. One crosses the road quickly, too fast for me to take note.
Around us, the fields are picking up the hues of a setting sun. I am full of smiles. This is my backyard now. This is my block, my neighborhood.
I take a walk up the road, around the bend, just a few steps more...
The sky fills with the color of a pre-spring evening. Oh! I see a deer come out of a forest. And another! I watch, even as they are mere specks in the open fields.
More come out. Four. Then five. Then seven.
I could come closer, but why should I. Right now I am the intruder. They live here. I’m only getting ready to do so.
One minute the sky is grand, the next minute it is grander still. My road (yes, my road!) snakes up and then down... so different from an urban or even suburban landscape!
We drive back to the city and I throw one last look back at the farmette. Easy to spot, to admire. The sun is gone, but the silo stands out. And the farmhouse. It’s behind the thicket, right close to the silo.
It could be that the years, the very first three of my life, spent in the countryside of Poland, have left their imprint. This place of quiet fields and blazing sunsets sure feels like home.