August was a whirlwind and September, thankfully, is slated for the opposite. I’ve been in Connecticut for the last several weeks, but am now settled in Vermont and hope to (mostly) be here until the water freezes. My body may attempt to freeze sooner than that, but she’ll hang on. We’ve tented in autumn snow before, having a camper in similar weather will be downright luxurious. Speaking of, the sink now drains and I can’t even tell you how much this has transformed things. Adam was also going to install the hand pump for the sink this weekend, but as soon as he put it on the counter, it seemed huge and cumbersome and both of us felt like it was too much in this small space so we held off on bolting in down and running the pipes. Bringing water into the camper (without hauling) is still high priority, but maybe not as high priority as we once thought. But draining water! Now that’s revolutionary. To wash dishes, faces, hands, teeth, etc without having to go outside, especially as the weather is cooling down, is so fantastic. Running water is a modern miracle, yet draining water remains under-appreciated. At least by me, until now.
I wanted to say thank you for your support on my last post. And on a whole bunch of other recent posts, too. It probably goes without saying, but just in case, please know that anything I write here is simply a purging of my own thoughts, feelings, and observations. Nothing I share should be considered as me making a point of any kind (seriously, I have no point to make), nor should my words be construed as advice or instruction on how others should feel, think, or act. Definitely not. Actually, let that be the only instruction or advice I give. I think you all get this, but for some reason I just needed to type it out.
So now it’s just me and Ozzy up here on the ridge, figuring out our days and the remaining work to be done before the snow flies. A pessimist would be rightfully discouraged by the slow progress we’ve made since taking ownership of this land (thanks to a day job two states away, rendering time desperately precious), but I suppose this is where the sliver of youthful optimism that I possess comes in handy. At least we are here. All is well.
One last thing before I go, words via Glennon Doyle Melton that hit home for me, maybe they will for you, too:
Be still and know that I am God.
Be still and know.
That’s the plan.
That, and continued appreciation for a sink that drains. Holy, what a fine thing.