Making a New Nest

And the mess in the middle—My Sunday Best #96

A week ago on Tuesday, as promised by the weather forecasters, we got some snow. I measured 9” on my patio table. Our friend, who plays a mean harmonica and who also happens to be a meteorologist, informed us that the weather patterns in the Midwest are complicated, if not impossible, to forecast. However, this time, he and a large number of his fellow weather gurus nailed it. They all agreed we would get inches of feathery flakes and the skies delivered. In anticipation of the impending storm, businesses and schools announced closings. Our regular Tuesday night gig was canceled on Monday without a snowflake in sight. For this former mountain girl, I still find it amusing that businesses close because of what might happen. Where I come from, fresh snow warranted opening early and welcoming customers in the door who were eager to share the exciting stories of riding out the storm.

I’ve never been a fan of shoveling snow. Mostly because I haven’t found a way to do it that doesn’t hurt my back. I prefer Mother Nature’s approach, which is to let it be. It will melt in its time. This approach works most of the time in my current location. A few days after the snowfall, the temperatures rose into the mid-60s, and except for a few patches in the shade, it was all gone in less time than it would have taken my back to recover.

Since we were suddenly gifted with several days of free time, we decided to move into another, larger RV that had recently become available and happened to be just four spaces over in the small RV park where we live. The travel trailer has two slide-outs directly across from each other, which, when opened, expand the living-dining room area from 8 feet to 14 feet wide—room enough for two recliners, a love seat, and a dining room table with four chairs. It feels like a mansion. Even though I loved living in our motorhome, at times, it felt like I was waiting to get off at the next stop.

As my husband and I discussed a moving strategy, a friend happened to come by with his truck. Just like that, our bed was moved, and we spent the first night in our new home. The next few days, we walked back and forth on a beaten path through the snow with armloads of our belongings.

My mother also lives in this same mini-RV park—three spaces down. Since our motorhome is more structurally sound and energy efficient than the travel trailer she was currently living in, we agreed that the motorhome would be a good upgrade.

To wrap it all up, in the scope of two and a half weeks, we moved four travel trailers—one to Arizona, one two spaces to the left, one three spaces to the right, and another to the side of the driveway to be sold. In the process, we cleaned out all the cupboards and everything else that falls in the category of “stuff” accumulated and found new places to put almost all of these things.

Moving is change in its fullest expression. Everything is different—the shower, the silverware drawer, the closet, and the way the morning sun comes in the window. I still have piles of stuff to go through. But yesterday, I looked out the window and saw a little bird sitting next to its birdhouse that had recently been moved as well. The bird seemed perfectly content with the new location, and I couldn’t help but smile.

So yes, it’s been a bit messy in the middle of all this change, but at the same time, it all feels so good. Our dog, Dennis, has finally figured out which house is his and which door to go to when he wants a treat.