What a simple pleasure it is to be home after time away. Especially time away in a tent. What a wonder it is to move about in full light at night. To have fresh foods, crisp from the fridge. And let's not forget the wonders of indoor plumbing. I waged an epic battle with the large and thirsty mosquitoes of Vermont, primarily in the form of drenching myself in chemical repellents. A passive approach to be sure, but effective. I miss the absence of human sounds, which was filled up with nature sounds. I miss the smell and the mountainous greens and the fog after rain, and the lakes.
So now we are home and were greeted with jubilant disdain by the cats. Bijou and her reverential love of routine. Boris and his wild vocalizations. They smell good and tell us stories and we sing to them and play their favorite games. It's a win win relationship dynamic. We feed them, clean their litter boxes, cater to their dietary preferences. I even decorate to Boris' standards. If a tchotchky isn't too heavy, he will launch it. If it is fragile, it will break. But really, he makes up for it by grooming my eyebrows, and learning how to purr, and melting into Nik's arms as he reaches out a paw to me *melt*.
We walked the Elmwood Village today, and it all felt nice and familiar. It has been my home for more than 10 years, after all. But for the first time in a long time, I find myself thinking in terms of 'away'. Thinking of all of the ways we can earn money from a rural locale. Thinking of community and how to find it or create it. Thinking of the people I'll miss, and the people I will meet. Thinking of my little flock of chickens, because it usually rolls back around to the chickens eventually. And so, I feel like we're home...ish. Eager to see more of Vermont, eager to take steps toward a move. But also wanting to pay extra attention to the things I love that are here.
And here is a card from March...
"I enter the woods, and plunge into nature"