The rain is relentless. It’s been a few years since we’ve had such plentiful summer rain. Actually, the first half of this summer was in drought, but now, it’s rained nearly every day for three or four weeks. Too much, really. It feels reminiscent of the time our farmer’s market had to cancel the tomato festival and replace it with a fungus festival. A cheeky nod to the blight that wiped out every single tomato in the state of Connecticut. Was it 2009? I can’t recall. It’s only been since then that commercial farmers started using high tunnels as the norm here – not something our generous growing season requires, but tomatoes do stand a fighting chance – disease-wise – under their protection. As a bonus, farmers can now offer those ruby reds a few weeks earlier.
We’ve started packing our house. It will be listed at the end of September, and we’ll be moving on. I’ll share the details of that when the time feels right, which is not today. It’s been great to go through every item we own and determine its worthiness and fate. Is this useful in our life? Is it a tool of some kind that helps us perform a task? Is it a family memento? I’m keeping a designated number of totes for mementos, and that’s it. I am about to embark on the boxes of family photos, and while I have no problem keeping actual family photos, do we really need to keep those random pictures of nothing significant that we all have stacks of from the film days. We’ve got to be realistic about this, because not only are we getting older and do not feel like managing extraneous stuff, my next consideration is perhaps my biggest: Will this be a burden for Emily when Adam and I are no longer? This is huge for me, and is something I ask myself with every single item my hands touch in this packing process. We are not minimalists by any stretch, nor is it something we desire, if only because our lives are filled with in-home production of all sorts. Too far in the minimalist direction, and you run the risk of spending extra money whenever you need a task done. Need to cobble together a chicken coop? You’re better off with a boneyard on your property to rummage through first, before buying brand new goods at Home Depot. Several months ago Adam acquired one of those electric lawnmowers, and having no need for it, put it on Craigslist. It was sold to someone an hour away who couldn’t come get it because he had a tiny hybrid vehicle and the folded up small lawnmower would not fit, so he paid Adam extra money to deliver it with his truck.
We need gear to make maple syrup, tools for butchering deer, garden implements, food preservation supplies, fabric and yarn, tree cutting paraphernalia, a decent library for pleasure and reference, Adam’s tools (I don’t really know what he has, but he seems to always have what is needed to get a job done). Things like that. I don’t have service for twelve china or much “decor” to speak of. What you see around our house are the things we use in daily life. Still. Somehow plenty of random items make their way here and are stashed in closets, attic, basement, garage. It’s relentless! These things require scrupulous consideration as we pack to move. A two-person, non-homeschooling household does not need six staplers, two is plenty. Getting rid of those extra four? That feels downright liberating. Yesterday I made a Goodwill run and dropped off more than twenty games after cleaning out the game cabinet. We kept the six or so that we actually play. It feels good to go through and release nearly half of our belongings. That’s the track we’re on at least. It‘s an arbitrary percentage, really. As I go through each section of our house, I wind up culling about half of what I touch. I did not set out to do this, but it feels pretty good on the other side. Meaning, what we’re left with does not feel like a horrifying amount of stuff for my child to deal with. Well, as far as homesteader-prepper-type people go. (Sorry kid, I did my best. But hey, you’ll have all the power tools and canning jars you could ever need…)
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This summer has not allowed for much writing time, so I’ve decided to set a timer for twenty minutes a few times a week and just write. No plan, very little editing. Likely no point. But at least I’m writing. It’s a muscle that surely atrophies without use. My timer is up for today, so I need to end this here. Thanks for stopping by, and remember, you don’t need six staplers.
