far away

A unique feature of this country is that its inhabitants haven't suffered in modern times the horrors of living in a war zone, where every night brings with it the fear of not waking up the next morning, or at the very least losing all that you've built in life -- family, home, work. Beautiful things too. Art. Gardens. As I write here about my intoxicating venture into gardening at Steffi's House, I am well aware that the luxury I enjoy today is something that a person cannot even imagine as being theirs in places like the Ukraine.

When I was putting up art work in my new home, I was very much aware of the source and story behind each piece. And it all fit, and the walls look good to me -- not too overwhelmed (like an over-planted garden!), but not too bare either. But I was missing something over the mantle. Or at least I felt that it would be fabulous if someday I would find a supplement to the one piece that is already there. A still life. 

In my spare moments (usually late into the night), I looked around on the internet to see if something pops out at me. And it did pop out -- paintings bythe Ukrainian  Miroslava Kuchura. I purchased one, wondering how the heck you mail a painting out of Kiev these days!

I texted with Mira today. I sent her a note of what I hope sounded like sympathy and encouragement. She wrote back -- I am currently painting in the mountains... We go on living, often sleepless, heading down to the shelters, never getting enough rest. 

If you cannot imagine conflict of that magnitude in your own life, then dive into the world of those who have to deal with bombs falling on their family homes every day -- it really does make your life, my life seem like one from another planet.

 

And here we are, in the thick of beautiful summer days. I suppose some would call it too hot. I dont see many people out and about in the neighborhood. Every building here has a front porch. Millie and I are always on ours, coming and going, and checking on plants and weather and birds and whatever else catches our interest. People have porch chairs, but they must be for decoration only. Maybe they're uncomfortable. No one ever sits in them. Sidewalks too tend to be empty on a hot day. The ones who do walk are people with dogs and parents with babies in strollers. Millie is learning to accept this as a fact of her new life: people and dogs will pass. They aren't coming to stuff her in a sack and send her down the river.  

(early morning walk: the sun  always throws lovely warm tones on my gardens then...) 

 

 

 

 

(breakfast) 

Before it really does get hot, or hotter, I take Millie to our local dog park. She is cautious once again, but at least she's accepting of the people there. The dogs? She's not sure she wants to run up to a perfectly strange large canine and strike up a conversation. She prefers to stay near me.

I'm mindful of the fact that she does get hot easily so we do one full loop... 

 

 

 

... then return home.

And she naps, and I water the plants out front, all the time scheming on how to get out to plant this evening. 

Well, maybe tomorrow.

A quiet night. A July night. A month of flowers and of peace, for the lucky few.

with so much love... 

It's still about Millie

If Millie were a school girl, I think she'd very much resemble me as a school kid. I was inspired! Sometimes. And I was bored -- other times. And you don't want to know how I dealt with that! I was lively and very much attuned to those around me. I kept my eye on them all -- perhaps even more than on what I should have been studying. Sounds like my pup! Millie gets inspired and then you think she is one whip-smart little pup. Sometimes. She gets bored and then she looks for trouble -- a common little ploy now is for her to go straight to the chair by the window and find something or someone to bark at. A raucous follows. She is indeed lively. Today's zoomies were epic! 

 

 

And yes, her eyes never leave me. Never. I will think she is sleeping and tiptoe to the bathroom and look up to see her standing in the doorway. And of course, if anyone comes here, or near here, she stares them down with an intense eye, until they're gone or out of sight.

But Millie does suffer now once more from separation anxiety and in this way, we are different. I suffered no separation anxiety. I never got homesick at camp, or sleepovers, or spending summers at my grandma's and I liked it when my parents went out and I could hit the TV (which was in their bedroom), not necessarily observing the limits imposed by them on watching sitcoms. But Millie -- she's back in panic mode if I put her in her crate and go out. For any amount of time. That means that today, while she is at doggie daycare, I want to fit in everything that needs to be done that I simply cannot do with her at home.

It's a loaded day.

Millie wanted to start the day super early. I did not. Once she bounced off the bed (at 4:45 a.m.! really Millie??), I put her in her crate by my bed and told her to keep quiet for another hour. And she did.

We ate breakfast, it was lovely, she barked hardly at all. 

(it's peach and berry season!)

And just after 9, I take her to Happy Dogz. And now comes my whirlwind: I go grocery shopping -- it's the first time I set foot in the store since coming home from the June trip. I do some returns at UPS. I give back the internet modem to the management of Sally's House. That's a lot of driving and Millie is not a huge fan of car rides. 

At home, I get out the lawn mower. I cant get it started. I call Ed. He come over. I show him the problem and miraculously, the problem has disappeared. He shrugs and goes home. I mow, thinking -- I ripped out so much sod and still, there's a heck of a lot of mowing to do here! I trim the edges. And then I take care of the plants to the west side of the house. I can put Millie in the yard and work to the east. I can put her on the porch and work out front to the south. But I cannot do anything at the west side because I am out of her field of vision there. This afternoon, I dump some wood chips, I pull some weeds, I put up a very beautiful trellis for a rose bush that wont need it for at least two years. I check all roses for beetles. I water. I mean, the list is long and I do not get through it until late in the afternoon. Lunch at 4. And then I drive to dump more cardboard at the city dump, and swing around to pick up my girl. Sweet sweet Millie. Someday her anxieties will be history! In the meantime, I adjust.

 

Ed comes over in the evening, we order pizza, I make a salad, we watch a show. I have to say, after a day out in the yard, it feels so grand to sit back and think about something other than plants. But tomorrow? Millie and I will be at it again. It's July! The flowering season. Beautiful, even in the small bursts of new plantings that I have  all around Steffi's House..

with so much love... 

housebound

Fridge water error light is on, doggie blanket outside, rain comes, doggie blanket is sopping, pup separation anxiety back and running, rose needs planting but pup anxiety is back and running, beetles are here -- roses are their nirvana, dog across the alley stares at my dog across her invisible fence causing great distress, workers are putting in porch rail next door -- a hair's length away from the window where Millie patrols the world and barks at real or imagined dangers, heatwave coming with ten straight days of intense sunshine...

... what else could go wrong??

A trickle of small insignificant irritating issues. The kind that remind you that it's all good and well  to talk patience and calm, but to practice it when your pinky keeps hitting the shift key AND EVERYTHING STARTS LOOKING LIKE THIS, and all the gritty details of daily living hit you in the face like a cloud of midges -- that's a whole other level of serenity to which only a select few can aspire.

But, the start of the day? Beautiful.

And the beetles have not yet destroyed the roses. Not for want of trying.

 

 

Only I'm still getting up too early and I am decidedly sleepy. Normally, working away outside would shake me into awakeness, even more than a cup of milky coffee would, but I try leaving Millie to her morning nap in her crate, so that I can step out, and it just doesn't work. Same crate, same stuffie, same music, but where once calm prevailed, now I'm getting howling and yapping as only Millie can do. I should check the neighborhood FaceBook page to see if anyone is complaining yet (once someone posted. that a dog on her block sounded like it was in total agony and despair and should she do anything about it... I wanted to suggest -- go help your neighbor by offering to take the dog for a walk, or take over a cherry pie or something!), but thankfully Millie's voice doesn't carry far. It stops with my ears, though honestly, she shatters my hearing well and good with her high pitched cries.

When my pup settles for a nap (me -- inside), I take care of paperwork (more change of addresses -- did you know you can get a new drivers license with your new address without once lifting your butt off the couch?) and then settle down to read in my reading corner and promptly doze off. The one cup of coffee in the morning never really woke me up. I force myself to get up and make a second cup. In another hour I make a third.

A repair person is to come over to look at my fridge. I dont think it's broken and yet I cannot get the water dispenser to work. Ed, too, comes up short from his online search of troubleshooting. I am thinking that they deliberately make water dispensers complicated so that people would come up short on how to adjust them and call a trusted GE repair person to do a house call. 

Does Millie like having a strange man come to the house? She does not, but close to my chest calms her down, so that only a low grumble can be heard. 

The repair person (from a company mysteriously called "Ghost") doesn't even have to pretend to carry in tools. All he needs is that special know-how on what to do when no water comes out of the dispenser on what is almost a brand new fridge. I'm fascinated which buttons he will be pressing. It's all about buttons and screens these days. And indeed -- he presses his smart phone buttons, looking up the secret fridge buttons that give him passageway to steps he has to take. Future repairs I'm sure will be done by some mastermind sitting like the Wizard, directing twenty or even a hundred customers at a time from a comfortable chair elsewhere. Perhaps in Taiwan.

Speaking of foreign places, my tech person was from Russia. I could tell by his accent and the last name. And he knew I was "from a Slavic country." How? well, he has sharp eyes that take in everything. In a nook by the door stands a bookshelf. On it -- family photos. Including this one:

"The woman's head scarf..." -- he tells me. "Slavic." My grandmother's dress-up scarf.  She was so young then! Or at least younger than me (my grandfather, also in the photo, died when she was 70).

 

It's hot outside. Every plant that is in a pot has to be watered every day in weather like this. I try to sneak this in on the porch, I did attend to the tomatoes earlier, but of course, I should also make sure the heat isn't destroying any of the new plantings in the garden. That comprehensive flower care goes on the list for tomorrow, when Millie is in doggie daycare. Everything goes on the list for tomorrow when Millie is in doggie daycare. 

It will be a very full day. 

with so much love... 

 

finding that space for contentment

Suddenly, I have many of them. Spaces where I can think -- wow, it doesn't get much better than this. A chair with a cushion on the porch, amid flowers, with a coffee  and a good book. And a resting pup.

Or, sitting on a bench and watching my dog frolic with joy.

Or, closing a window that actually closes easily, because it hasn't yet been warped by time and the elements of a harsh winter or summer, and looking out through it at birds coming to your yard to feed.  

Or, hearing music you love  gently setting the tone for a calm moment, again with a book, possibly with that milky coffee or fruity tea, by a window so that the outside world seems pretty darn near, within reach. Add to it a piece of a cinnamon roll on a pretty plate -- bliss. 

Millie, too, is finding them: she is more into spirited joy than peaceful contentment, though this morning she finds both.

Oh, I could get used to this!

 

My puppy has a scheduled doggie daycare today. Just a half day, so she can play with her favorite pups. It's a drive, but it's worth it. So much change for her this month, but that playtime, with humans she loves and dogs she trusts has stayed the same. It adds that reassurance that life actually isn't that crazy and chaotic.

While she is there, I'm back in my garden. More wood ships to distribute, and holes to dig for the last plants that will be going in within the week. Three more roses, because it turns out 2026 has become the year of the rose for me  -- floribundas, grandifloras and climbers. They weren't appropriate for the farmette beds which were so full of day lilies, but they sure are here, with all the fencing, the side-of-the-house planting space and importantly -- plenty of sunshine. So, plant, water, transplant, spread wood chips. The usual.

And in the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop, so that we can resume our reading, now in Steffi's House.

(everybody's favorite chair) 

What a beautiful day. So many moments of contentment! I know they can't all be like this, but when the stars align and you find that quiet time to just be, with few props, perhaps a book, perhaps flowers... Really, about as good as it gets.

with so much love... 

a Millie day

Yes, there are still tasks to take care of in the garden (think of this as a constant). And yes, there's always the paperwork that lags behind a move. But Millie has priority today. I want to work through some of the issues she has faced with the move. She's a gentle and sensitive pup and if I ever needed proof of that -- well, I have plenty of it that came with the move.

Her barking at any activity outside (here she is, in position!)...

... you might say is just a puppy thing, perhaps specific to this breed, this dog, this age. Except I don't fully buy that. Millie barks when she doesn't understand who that person (or dog or other living form) is and what their intentions are. At Sally's House, once she understood that construction workers are a fixture and that they will not attack her and pull her limbs out one by one, she ignored them. She dismissed angry dogs, delivery trucks, cars pulling out of driveways with her nose up, as if to say "I cant be bothered with the whole lot of you." I want to get her to that place now, because at the moment, everything that is strange and new can set her off and whereas I do not really mind her barks and songs, I'd rather she learn to hold it in sometime.

Morning walk, morning light...

 

 

We eat breakfast outside...

After a few cuddles, Millie relaxes and keeps an eye on the construction crew next door quietly.

 

 

But then comes the yard and a new set of noises and movements. Again, we cuddle, I let her loose, she is concerned about something, barks, I pick her up, snuggle, let loose. On repeat. But by noon she is visibly more relaxed. We walk over to Tati's coffee shop for lunch with Ed. Typically the cafe is pretty empty in the early afternoon. Not so today. And again she's unsure. All those new people! But, she gets her pup cup and a spot on the couch next to me. Life is good again.

In the late afternoon, I pick up Snowdrop from her summer program and bring her... home. To my home.

This place suits you, I like it  -- she tells me. Indeed it does! 

Sandpiper comes (with dad) to pick her up and he, too, is approving. But of course, kids are easy to please. The younger they are the fewer the judgments. Still, it's great to see everyone with all smiles. And Millie relaxes even more with the little ones here. I can see it in her eyes -- it's just like in my other life, same goofy kids, same belly rubs, same damn brush she uses on me! 

But once you're done with that chair, little guy, it's my turn. There are still some strange noises and movements out there that I need to bark at.

with so much love... 

 

the new delightful normal

 Millie is adjusting. The new routines are awfully much like the old ones. She is finding her place in them.

It's a beautiful day and our spirits are high. Our morning time over breakfast on the porch is grand. My girl is restraining her barks now. Not everyone gets a rousing greeting and in any case, her tail is wagging. She wants to make friends. Me, I'm enjoying a warm beginning to the day, looking over at all that I planted this year. July is a gardener's dream month. It's peak time for blooms. It's hard to take in the fact that we're already one week into the month. 

 

 

 

... Where the potted roses (to be transplanted later) are coming into full bloom.

I get a very welcome message from Ed: he'd been losing a lot chickens to predators. Oh, we've always lost an occasional one to hawks, possum, raccoons. But very rarely. And almost never during the day. But this spring -- three were snatched in broad daylight. Ed has been keeping them under lock to assess the situation and maybe redirect the racoon if indeed it is a raccoon. But yesterday, two things happened -- in the late afternoon, he found a coyote staring into the sheep shed window. And Dance had gone missing for going on 24 hours. He put two and tow together and came up with the obvious -- this animal had been taking chickens, and if non could be caught, she (likely a mom of young ones) could easily go after a cat. There was your answer as to why Dance had not shown up for three meal in a row.

It was a sad ending to the day last night. I'll admit it -- Dance was by far our favorite. The oldest one, named "Dance" by Snowdrop when she was just 3 years old, this cat knew us so well that she could actually have a conversation with us about her needs and desires, about our annoying habits. She loved me, she loved Ed and we loved her right back. In many ways, Dance was to Ed now as Millie is to me. The loss of her was devastating. Plans were hatched -- Ed felt he needed to hire a trapper to go after the coyote who was lurking to find his next feast. We have a half dozen cats at the farmette. Are they all at risk? Along with the chickens?

But in the middle of this night, Dance came back. Without a scratch. We can only guess as to why she was gone for over 24 hours. But hearing this morning about her return, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. You gave us a scare, Dance, you really did!

And Millie rested, and then I took the girl to doggie day care. 

(on the way there...)

 

My big task for today is to say good-bye to Sally's House. (Meaning I have to go over and clean it -- mostly of the mud and debris movers brought into it. Not their fault. There's construction mud everywhere on that block.)

I have positive enough feelings about the place, but at the same time, I always felt it to be transitional housing. Not something I would have ever chosen for a long term home, even ignoring the fact that it was just plain too big, rented to me at a (more or less) affordable rate only because no one in this town starts a lease in February. We're not that kind of a city! And then along comes this renter (me) who wants a short term lease, starting in February. The landlord felt lucky. I felt lucky! It was a good place. And since I managed to keep it spiffy for the time I was there, the clean up was straightforward. 

From there to Steffi's -- to plant the odd plants that have been drying up in pots because I had not the time to put them in. All the plants would benefit from a solid watering and I had the couple of hours to do it today. It's manageable -- setting up Steffi's garden was very challenging, but maintaining it should be just the perfect amount of work for me. 

I'd put up the bird feeder this afternoon and noted that it had had a few visitors already. Finches, sparrows, red tipped blackbirds. They've not used the bird baths yet, but of course, they have plenty of sprinkler water in the area. The house next to mine had turf rolled out around it this weekend and sprinklers are set to spray water at regular intervals. 

 

 

Ed comes over to deal with my mechanical frustrations: the thermostat needs adjustments and the online literature on the little gizmo is voluminous and totally incomprehensible to me. We work on that together and then I am back to planting. and watering. I like the way the garden is developing. I'm trying hard to create a cottage look, but without over-planting. Most of the the flower fields at the farmette are over-planted. It's not that the initial planting was excessive, though some would argue with me there I suppose, but the issue comes up over the years when I do maintenance work, prioritizing weeding and snipping lilies. I could not get to dividing and even discarding some of the lilies. Too much to  do elsewhere. When I drove over to pick up some more compost soil today, I took a moment to inspect the more prominent fields.

(the Big Bed)

 

They have the potential to still look great this year, but it really is too dense in there. Beautiful, but definitely overgrown. And a bit too weedy.

 

I bring Millie home in the late afternoon. There is so much that delights her here. The yard of course, The porch as well. The fact that I no longer gate off the upstairs and doors stay open to all rooms. (Before, she had access to the upstairs only at night and only to one room.) And of course, she loves watching the world go by. Not sure I share her passion for selectively yapping at dogs or people outside, but she cant possibly disturb anyone here, and if this brings her pleasure occasionally -- so be it. I'm sure I have foibles that possibly irritate her (brushing heads the list!) and yet she puts up with it. 

With each day, she is more tuned into the new routines (which do mimic the old routines after all). And so am I. And we are happy.

with so much love... 

  

new beginnings...

Understanding what you need or want out of your days is a process. When I was an adolescent, I thought that if I had the attention, the love of my boyfriend, I would need nothing more. Happiness would be mine. (And in the few weeks we were "together," my cup was indeed full, running over in fact.) And then you learn that it's all not that simple. You tweak things. Proceeding by trial and error mostly. There are things you think are important, yet they prove to be unattainable. You try something new. You indulge some fantasies. Reject others. Money is a problem. Health can be a problem. Sometimes you wish you hadn't gone there. Sometimes you know you shouldn't have gone there. But  sometimes the pieces actually fit!  

I think about all this because I really feel now like I did as a 16 year old who had her first encounter with reciprocal love. Or, what I thought was love. Giddy with delight. And now here I am at 73, again feeling so damn lucky to be where I am right now: with the kids, grandkids. Ed. Millie. Friends (life is never perfect -- I do wish they were physically closer). Retirement. A home that has everything I could possibly need -- at the top of the list? A quiet neighborhood (except for Millie's barking last night, but she had an excuse!), a cottage with an open floor plan with lots of windows. A small garden for me to manage and love. A wee fenced yard where Millie can let loose and have her zoomies. A neat, clean, pile-free interior with everything in its place. And a porch. This porch, where we have our first breakfast together. 

Now about last night: traumatized earlier by two angry dogs, Millie never quite recovered in the evening. The fireworks and firecrackers were constant. All evening long. Pops, booms, bangs. She is not phobic about fireworks (I know many dogs are), but it was just too much, and the new place was beyond her comprehension,  She sat on the chair by the window (who said it's my reading corner? It's our shared reading corner!) and alternated between barking and looking wildly at everything that fluttered or twinkled outside, until we went to bed upstairs, where she finally settled down.

She did sleep well and so did I. First time for a long time. And in the morning she was tentative, but certainly better than last night. Once I put up the gate by the porch stairs outside, she had the freedom to roam there and she loved that. No one was out so early in the morning and she just took at the world at her own pace.

Afterwards, we went inside and I put up artwork. Millie appropriated her best seat ever.

 

 

The downstairs is now finished! I thought she was due for a morning nap so I crated the girl and stepped out to do some yard work. Millie had gotten over her separation anxiety and I'd been able to leave her easily for even three hours without a wince or yelp. Not today. The minute I was out of eyesight, the howling began. I tried a return and a re-exit. Nope. Still howling. Obviously she needs to work up to it again. Not today though. Let's get her used to the new home first. 

I took her to the back yard and sat with her there. She loves the outdoors and she sniffed and played and finally settled under the bench. If I stepped outside the fence area, she'd yelp. If someone went by, she yapped. But slowly she yelped and yapped less. I'd come in and out of her fenced yard and it was okay. For short spells. I planted three plants and watered a corner of the yard and she was fine. An occasional woof, but easily settled. We are making progress!

 

At around noon, Ed came over to help me build a small daybed for the upstairs playroom. Millie had been calming down but the emergence of two huge boxes (with bed parts) unnerved her all over again. She had an accident, even though I'd just taken her out. I can see it in her alert eyes -- when will this drama end?? Soon, dear one. Soon.

 

Once the bed is built,  the three of us walk over to Tati's for lunch. Familiar stuff at last for the old girl!  

I have to wonder what she is thinking: how is it that we walk back, the same (for the most part)  two blocks, but at the end of the walk, we are not what I understood to be our home??

 

Ed leaves then and I go back to hanging up art. Most of it has hung on one wall or another through many moves. They're all favorites, from a lifetime of not having the money for it, but loving nonetheless the idea of joyful art on the wall. Three of my nephew's paintings now are in place. A piece from an Ocean friend. A poster from this year's trip to St Paul de Vance. A painting I picked up in the village of Giverny from the years I used to stay there overnight on repeat. A print of Chopin's house. A very bright painting from the artist who lived next door when I spent three weeks in Pierrerue in the south of France. A small painting from my apartment years in Warsaw. A print of a piece that accompanied my article for the NYTimes. And so on. 

Steffi's House is done. Sure, it's an ongoing project -- how you live in it, how you tend to the flowers and care for the birds that come and visit -- it doesn't stop with the last nail pounded into the wall. But it's all a new chapter for me. The pieces fit into one complex canvas and again I have this blissful feeling that at this moment, I'm in a very special place. 

 

 

 

with so much love... 

a week to remember, day 6

Very late in the morning -- it's almost noon -- I'm finally sitting down to breakfast on my front porch. 

 

 

I feel more like I'm in a coffee shop, at an outdoor table. I have a full view of my street. Kids are playing in the driveway down the block, the building next to mine is in the last stage of completion and people come and go there as well (who will be my new neighbor?). I do not have a roof over me -- just a pergola and this, to me, is one of the outstanding features of my cottage. There is plenty of light coming through it, both for my plants on the porch and through the windows into my living space. 

The pergola style does mean that I am exposed to the elements. Was that a sprinkle I felt? I can move back under the overhang, or I can go inside to my reading nook. I love my options!

It's a late meal because I spent the first four hours of the morning unpacking more boxes. The kitchen is done, the other rooms are half done. Millie is coming home this afternoon and I want to go with Ed and his truck to the recycling dumpsters before that, so that I can get rid of the huge mountain of flattened cardboard. Even with his pickup, I think it'll be a challenge to do it in just one haul. 

(at the dump)

 

 

Is it the 4th of July? For a moment I thought that was yesterday. Dates are merely calendar pages with lists of what I must do at what time. That they actually represent something important -- well fine, but who has time to reflect on that?

A half hour of drinking in this porch moment and then I am back with the boxes. By early afternoon, I have most of them unpacked. This is the one benefit and perhaps the only benefit of moving so often -- you so do not want to be stuck finding space for every item in a box, that you're likely to throw or give away things that are only marginally relevant to your life. I could die tomorrow and my kids would have an easy time dealing with my possessions. But decluttering is only a beginning. Piles begin to form over time. You stuff things randomly into any corner just so you dont have to decide their fate at the moment. If I have any resolve after this last move, it's that I will not create piles and stashes of stuff. I swear I've been saying this for many decades, but this time I've been hit hard by all my packing and unpacking. I placed every item with care at Steffi's House. Perhaps this time though I'll succeed in getting closer to minimalism rather than excess. And I remind myself that I came to America with an American Tourister suitcase and a flight bag (remember those?). True, I left some possessions in Warsaw and I expected to return to them or bring them to my life here, but when my parents got rid of everything I left behind (behind my back!) I have to admit that I didn't miss any of it. And from this suitcase and bag, the possessions multiplied. Because that really is the American way. We like our stuff.

 

But this isn't a trait I want to dwell on. It's the 4th of July and I surely want to say something that has both gravitas and lightheartedness to  it: How about noise? Because I'm hearing a lot of it on this 4th. We are a loud nation. We like to expose ourselves to noise. Our music is loud. And our fireworks are loud and we love them precisely for that reason. Why else keep your kids up late and brave swarms of mosquitoes on this 4th of July if not to revel in the explosiveness of a firework display? Sure, the color and sparkle thrill us too, but you cannot gloss over the fact that we all probably lose a bit of our hearing every year as we attend these displays.

No, of course I'm not going. But I'll hear the noise anyway, because people love popping firecrackers in their driveways on this day. Why? It's the thrill of effectuating a loud bang.

(I must admit that we are not alone in this love of loud sounds. Having lived in a construction zone for 5 months, I listened to a lot of music played by the construction crew. I liked it, but it was decidedly loud, and not in English. Still, even in loudish countries, our exuberance and thrill of the loud puts us way ahead of the pack.

 

Julie brings Millie home at 3 and here's some good news -- I am breaking down the last moving box as they come in! Oh, I still have stuff to do. Pictures to put up. Small things requiring my attention. Lots of plant work. But unpacking? Done! In 24 hours I manged to put away every single item. Phew!

Millie initially does not seem bothered by the new home. She looks around, with curiosity.

 

 

 

Is it because she has seen it before, or does she think we're merely visiting someone? 

She rests, and then I take her out for a walk. I'm only two blocks from Sally's House and yet the location couldn't be more different. I am close to the bike path, the prairie fields, nature that is something other than just mowed lawn.

And at first, Millie is a happy pup. 

 

 

 

But on our walk back, two dogs from a home a few doors down, come running to their own fence line barking and growling at her. I've met the owners before -- nice people who admit they have troubled dogs. Millie freezes. She has encountered mean dogs before -- near Sally's House there are two of them -- but these guys caught her by surprise. My terrified dog pulls like never before to get away from this space, these dogs, their owners, all of it. 

At home, she figures out that if she is on furniture, she can see people out the window. Including the family across the street with little kids playing with firecrackers. Their dad throws something down, it pops, they jump on it, there's smoke. I haven't a clue as to what this firecracker is, but Millie is in no mood for any of it. She barks her head off at all of it -- the loud pops, the kids running around clouds of smoke, and perhaps her own situation -- a dog suddenly in a place that just isn't the home she remembers. The scents are a match, but it all feels... very very strange. different.

 I sit closely with her and when she is in my arms, she quiets down. But her body is stiff. The girl is tense. And when i let her go, she is back on the chairs, barking. At everything.

 

 

I put her in her crate where she cannot see anything. The two growling lunging dogs have put her on alert. It'll take a while now to get her to feel confident again. 

 

And me? I can't believe I'm winding down a year of choppy seas and turbulent winds. Could it be that I am finally settled? My week to remember ends tomorrow, but really it ends today, on July 4th. In my new home.

with so much love... 

 

a week to remember, day 5

What a day. And it still continues. Though in a few minutes it'll be midnight and therefore -- the 4th of July

But let me start with one thought I had today -- Americans who work in service fields are extremely pleasant toward customers. I can't think of another country where I have encountered such a consistent emphasis on friendly, customer-focused, attentive service. (This is why we hear so many complaints by Americans when they travel for the first time abroad. People appear to them to be rude. They're not that, actually, they are just.. normal. (Well, I'm still seeing some rudeness in the old country, or at least indifference to those who come in through the door. A hold over from our postwar era of absolutely lousy, hostile service. Nothing on the shelves, indifference of the clerks.) It's us, here in America who are the outliers. Some of the service workers are kind and friendly by nature, but if that's not your style, you surely will be told by management that your job is to show care. I remember when I did moonlighting in retail, selling L'Occitanae cosmetics. I was instructed to complement customers in some fashion. Just to make them feel good. Personally, I like a hands-off sales clerk who will let me browse without her or him hovering nearby, but I was told to shove that attitude in my pocket and keep it there while I worked behind the counter. Be cheerful, be pleasant. After a while, it becomes second nature.

Perhaps you're thinking that this is a corporate model that is more about bringing in a sale than being genuinely concerned about the person who comes in for a needed something or other. But the fact is that I have always thought that at first blush at least, Americans are genuinely friendly. Maybe we are now going through a phase where we hate everyone who is not like us, and yet, we still reach out with kindness to those seeking our help.

[My two movers today are, in fact, extremely kind and pretty friendly. Young men who surely must loathe their job -- they never stay with it for more than a few months or a year -- so pleasant to deal with on what is turning out to be a very difficult move. It took the two of them six hours to do the job and this despite my moving all fragile stuff on my own.]

Let me roll back to the morning. Without Millie. A good thing, because the day is one big mess pile. In fact, I called Julie, her babysitter, and asked if she could bring Millie not today, but tomorrow. Smart move! Steffi's House is a disaster right now.

I was up early -- at 5 a.m. -- and I did squeeze in a breakfast on the increasingly naked porch...

 

And then it was one mad dash -- to move more stuff. Anything that would require careful handling. To shovel off the wood chips that are still in the driveway. To work with the movers on placement of furniture. To call Ed for help with building a chair. To start unpacking. Very slowly. TO break down boxes. 

I was feeling upbeat all the way until 4 pm. My new reading corner made me totally giddy.

Then I hit that brick wall. I mentioned here that I got talked into switching my mobile service. To bundle it with the internet. I went through the process of doing this. It took forever. Cancel ATT, start Spectrum. Except that once tranferred and activated, the new phone service had such poor reception that I could not complete a single call. Next then was an hour spent with Spectrum trouble shooting. Nothing helped. I think I am simply in a Spectrum/Verizon dead. zone. All to save $10 a month...

Next hour? Spent with Spectrum and ATT canceling the first and reactivating the second (it's called a "winback"). I mean, you have to laugh. Everything was going smoothly, and then here I am, working not on the move but on my phone service. To un-save $10. 

But on the upside, the agents have all been super nice! And friendly. No one grumbled, no one was hostile or blamed me for this back and forth. (They did ask me -- how long did I stick it out with Spectrum and were quite surprised when I said "less than an hour.")

In the evening I return to the boxes.  Ed came, and I so I paused to share the leftover pizza slices with him (and a salad!) but eventually I resumed unpacking. Three moves and I still can't decide which is more loathsome -- the packing or unpacking.At least with the latter, you know you're at the tail end of it. Hard to believe that tonight I'll be in my home finally. Just me and the boxes. Millie comes back tomorrow.

with so much love... 

a week to remember, day 4

The first commercial roller coaster opened in 1884, in Coney Island of course. Oh, the idea had its roots 100 years earlier, in St Petersburg, Russia. Something akin to a mechanical sled on tracks was built at the whim of Catherine the Great. But it was the Coney Island ride that launched the roller coaster as we know it today -- with all the trappings of an amusement park surrounding it.

Roller coasters are popular worldwide, but America has the highest concentration of the thrill coasters that basically make you feel like your guts are plunging way ahead of you into a void of nothingness where up is down, and down is up, and your body shakes and quivers for a long time after, to recover from the shock it just endured. 

We love roller coasters.

I used to love roller coasters, until I didn't. Now, you couldn't pay me to go on one. Feeling dizzy and sick and jarred and tossed around so that the bones rattle is just not pleasurable any more. But it once was. Just like it still is for so many Americans.

*     *     *

I put Millie through a lot this morning. First of all, she and I had another late night. (I had to buy a bed. Not for me. It took a while to find one that was cheap and appropriate. Then of course there was the mattress... by the time I was done, it was midnight.) But there was no sleeping in this morning. Up at 5. Lots to do. 

Millie didn't mind the early wake up. But she does mind the chaos. The changes. The absence of old reliable props. We had breakfast on the porch. She hadn't her usual plants to sniff out, and there was no bench to settle under. It looked and felt different. 

 

My girl, this is our last morning here. I just want to tell you -- all these moves, the work involved -- it's been worth it. Our days here have been beautiful. And they will even more beautiful in Steffi's House.

And then I had to interrupt her morning nap, because the carpet cleaner had arrived. I had four rugs to unroll for them, and of course I had to open up the garage for them. I took the girl with me, thinking that perhaps she'd like a run in the Steffi yard. She did, but when I went into the house for a minute, she got scared. And when the big guy (and he was big) came with his machinery, she got more scared. And when he turned on his carpet cleaning motors, she was totally freaked out. She trembled as I put her in the car.

We snuggled for a while, then I drove her to Happy Dogz where she flew into the room full of familiar everything, tail going at full speed, excitement returning to her dark eyes.

Happy Dogz is closed tomorrow for the holiday weekend, but Julie -- the staff person who took care of Millie when I went to Europe -- happily agreed to take her home for an overnight. In this way, I have the whole day today to finish up with the packing and of course tomorrow, to assist with the move.

It wasn't the smoothest of days, and it was beastly hot once again, with storms hitting us in the early evening. Nothing terrible happened and the move continues to go forward, but there were bumps along the way. I had to call Ed to help with the Internet installation. The process stumped him as well and we spent way too much time trying to understand what our errors were. The movers came to pack up anything I hadn't boxed yet, and they packed all that they weren't supposed to pack (things I needed for the next two days) and did not pack a whole cabinet of stuff that should have been boxed. And I mowed the Sally lawn and the mowing machine swallowed up one of its parts and spit it out in shreds, gashing my leg in the process. Same leg that the neighbor's dog scratched just minutes before. (I said to him -- your dog has very sharp nails. He smiled in agreement. He did then ask -- can I help you with the mowing? And when I paused, trying to think of a polite response, he explained -- you know, because it's so hot and well... what he wanted to say but caught himself  is -- and you're so old...). And the light switch in the house isn't working and the storms knocked down some of my plants. small things that test your ability to stay calm and focused.. 

In the late evening, Ed came over with a pizza. I made a salad, we watched one of our old favorites on TV. I am totally exhausted but I do want to return to the move in a few minutes -- I can start unpacking stuff that I hauled over myself. 

Sally's House feels horribly empty right now: no Millie, no sign of a life in it. I suppose that I never thought of it as a real home. It felt more like I was house sitting for someone. The space was very pleasant, but never quite settled. Three dogs passed through it and that is the way I will remember these months. Henry, Sadey, and finally my sweet Millie. 

Tomorrow, my pup and I will be in Steffi's House. 

with so much love... 

a week to remember, day 3

Millie, 6 a.m. is better than 5:15. We are making progress! Or, is it that we both went to sleep so late last night that the idea of rising at dawn seemed... silly? I had taken my pup for a late evening stroll to Steffi's House. Her first venture inside. I accomplished two things -- I got her acquainted with her future home (she loved it! ...ran off upstairs to explore and came leaping down as if with approval), and additionally, I got to do some measurements. Of course, my set up at the Edge and even in Sally's House is not going to work well in the new place. This in itself is funny, since the same construction company put up both Sally's and Steffi's houses and even in the same year. Much of what is inside one, is a carbon copy of what is inside the other (the cabinets, the fridge, the stove, the fireplace). Though I will say that Steffi's House hasn't some of the shortcomings of Sally's. The flooring isn't as artificial looking, the washer dryer combo isn't the bottom of the barrel, like the ones here which I swear came from the discontinued stack at Walmart. And I love the fact that Steffi's space is small -- appropriate and plenty luxurious, I think, for a single dweller who expects grandkids to sleepover and come over on a regular basis. One open space downstairs (a blend of kitchen/ dining/ living), three small bedrooms upstairs. I had been looking for a house with just two bedrooms, but apparently these are rarely built. Americans like their space.

Add that to my list then:  being American means loving privacy. Physical space around you that others cannot enter without permission. And if you have the money for it, that space ill be big. I have this beautiful book of small houses. I'd always admired them and thought they were both clever and practical. And beautiful! But I have never seen one anywhere. These are custom built architecturally designed homes that make it into magazines and coffee table books (are there still "coffee table books," or is that an idea out of the 60s?), not into our neighborhoods. 

The idea of "lots of space" surely dates back to the years when Europeans arrived on the continental shores of North America, expecting to lay claim to all that they found here. This Land is Your Land, This Land is My Land is a fiction. We appear to love privacy more than thinking ourselves to be merely stewards of a land shared by many. And the larger the space, the better. Big cars, big houses, big closets, big fences. At least that is the dream. That it has become less and less attainable is reason for people to feel they've been cheated out of this American idea. And in all honesty, they have been cheated. People here work hard. [Can I add that to my list of Americanisms? I don't know a single Pole whose kid worked summer jobs at mindless menial tasks just to earn some money; I don't know a single American whose kid did not work before graduating high school.]  We have little time off for family or leisure, and at the end of the day, we feel the need to close ourselves off  (in front of the big TV, and I mean big!) to recover. Only recently have we begun to ask -- if we can't even attain a roof over our heads under which we can hide from the rest of the world, what's the point of all that hard work? Well we might wonder.

 

*     *     *

Another steamy day. Nevertheless, I take my breakfast outside. These are the last porch breakfasts for Millie and me and we both enjoy them too much to be put off by hot weather.

And then she rests. I am so tempted to just drop her off at daycare -- I have accelerated everything now and cant wait to get on with it -- but the little girl needs her quiet on the cool floor, with soft jazz or classical playing in the background. At least that's my take on her morning needs. She seems so... content then. And that feeling then seeps into my soul as well. We are both morning-content!

Eventually though I rouse her and take her over to Happy Dogz. It's July 1st, so I have to drive around and pay rents at the various places for which I still owe rents (a small supplement at the Edge and thankfully the last payment at Sally's House). And now finally I can move some stuff and plant some plants and distribute the chips Ed piled onto the driveway. Inside, the cleaning crew is making sure all is well and that Steffi's House is without any trace of germs or meth or whatever else it is that cleaning crews are looking to eliminate.

 

At 11:30, Ed is free from his various Zooms and appointments and we do some more transporting. More kitchen stuff. And some furniture. This is a bit nuts: I have movers this Friday who are there to do the heavy lifting. Why transport the heavy yard benches, the side tables, the plant stands? 

Because I worked so hard at getting the yard together and they mowed the lawn for me at Steffi's today and I was just dying to see how it all would fit together. And, too, Ed helped me build the bird bath which has a gurgling little fountain to it --- here's a post-installation photo:

And the front porch is taking shape as well and I planted another rose, plus a hibiscus which was damn hard today, what with the heat and the rocky soil, so do you blame me for wanting to finally put the missing pieces in place and take it all in? Because it really has been a hell of an effort! Today was perhaps the toughest of all the physically tough days. The heat was unreal and I had the planting and the watering and the moving of wood chips -- I must have gone through at least a six pack of sparkling water and even then I was totally wiped out.

 

I pick up Millie, we stop for a few minutes at the young family's house. I haven't seen Sandpiper since the trip and he is also a huge fan of Millie.

("I want to hold her!")

 

 

 (Snowdrop, hand her over...)

 

 

*     *     *

The cleaning crew at Steffi's was less enthusiastic about the state of the inside. It looked more or less good to me, but then I was expecting the worst. It looked dusty to them. The blinds, windows, the shelves of the cabinets. They worked hard and took all afternoon to get the job done. It's such a luxury to have someone do this for me! Tomorrow, the carpet guys will do the carpet washing (including rugs that I carted over that bear many marks of a puppy being house-trained), and in the afternoon the movers will finish packing all that I left for them (mostly books and cleaning supplies). In other words -- we're moving along exactly at the pace I had laid out for this so many months ago! 

But I never anticipated that I would go for the big one: the transformation of Steffi's Garden. Nor did I expect there to be a blistering heat wave as I finished up work outside (well, it's not exactly finished, but getting there!). Not to be throwing out one cliché after the next, but I do feel like if this doesn't kill me, it'll make me stronger. Physical labor at my age is something we don't seek out, but when you're pushed into it (in this case by some internal drive that leads me to do these things), ultimately, your muscles will thank you for it.

tomorrow -- another big day!

with so much love...