A Year in Central Oregon

A few months ago, I started drafting a list of items comparing Oregon to Colorado. I'm not entirely sure what it was that sparked the mental need to make a list, but after having a rough day it seemed an appropriate activity in the moment.  The list wasn't really for a specific purpose, but I was coming to understand some things about our surroundings and I find comparison lists helpful for clearing out my mind. 

When we arrived here, we spent about three months roaming to different places to "live," a week or so at a time, while we waited, trying to find a home to purchase. When we found a place, it was a complete wreck, but somehow knew that it was the place for us. We then spent eight months fully immersed in the house we bought, tearing it up, replacing everything, fixing things that no one else would bother to repair. Finally, in the last few weeks, it's started to feel complete, whole, and as though we could actually spend some time enjoying the space. 

On a hike with the pup on part of the Deschutes River Trail a couple of weeks ago.

All of the work has come at a cost (as I've mentioned) to our physical state (particularly me, as I've spent most of my days working on the house - though I know Sam isn't far behind). I've not ridden the way I normally would. I haven't worked out as I typically would. My dominant hand has had so much stress and strain that I wake each morning, unable to release the clenched fist I've made in my sleep. These things take a toll on my mental and emotional state of being as well, and it causes me to question decisions. But, having the opportunity to see the fruits of our labor, I can start to settle into routines again. 

After moving from Colorado to Oregon late in spring of 2021, I couldn't help but make comparisons. Superficially, visually, it's easy to think of them as similar places, going from one high desert to another, but the more time we have spent in central Oregon, the more I have realized how different it really is from our prior home. Different doesn't necessarily equate to bad, but the opposite isn't necessarily true either. I did (do) definitely prefer the cycling spaces in Colorado, despite the plethora of bike lanes here in Oregon. 

Riding is probably the biggest, most important difference in my personal, everyday life. Before we moved, we were told that cycling here in central Oregon is some of the best. I would argue that it depends on the type of cycling one does. There are certainly innumerable trails to ride and mountain paths to explore, but road-riding for any distance seems to be much more challenging. While I enjoy riding trails on occasion, it just isn't what I spend most of my riding time doing. The roads here are rough with few exceptions and as is the case in many cities across the US, motorists seem to believe that bike lanes are used to drive in and through at their leisure, or park in because they can't be bothered to find another space to use.

We came to Oregon because of a job opportunity for Sam that was, as presented, too good to pass up. I wasn't thrilled about leaving Colorado, but I agreed that the job was one that simply couldn't be turned down, and trying to be adaptable and not sulk about who/what would be left behind, agreed that we could make home anywhere. I still believe that to be true, but I also understand that there are certain areas of life that I had grown accustomed to and the change to a new area was more challenging than I had anticipated. Still, I was prepared to see the move through and figure out ways around the challenges of a new place.

A few months into Sam's job in Oregon, things started to turn. There were signals and signs that things at work were not quite as they'd been portrayed pretty early on. We forged ahead though, believing that everything has its ups and downs. By the new year, we were both completely aware of the reality that this "great job" was not going to exist in the very near future. It's not an easy thing to come to grips with a reality that we would, more than likely, be making a move again.  

Sam searched for work locally for a couple of months. The reality is that we're in a somewhat isolated area, and being able to find work that could sustain life was going to be a challenge. We believed we were here for a reason though and even though this new-to-us place had become somewhat tainted with the lies we'd been told, we hoped to not have to make a big move yet again and so soon. 

Not having much success with his job search, Sam broadened things to look pretty much anywhere in the US for jobs. His experience would no doubt land him something that was reasonable, but I really wanted to make sure that he found something where he'd be happy and able to grow with an organization. It's what I'd hoped for him here in Oregon as well. 

We reached out to a few friends who we thought might have connections that would be valuable for job searching, and there were many interviews over the weeks and months, but nothing panned out. It was upsetting, stressful, disheartening, but I believed that when the right opportunity came up, it would be clear and obvious. Sam hoped to find something remote so that we wouldn't be forced to move immediately, but he hasn't had the best luck finding those sorts of jobs in the past, and it didn't go particularly well this time either.

Eventually, what felt like the right opportunity presented itself. Try as I might, I couldn't help but find myself laughing about where the job is though. It isn't a remote job (though Sam is working remotely for the time being until we can get settled again), but we are headed back to the very same city we left in Colorado. What are the odds?

We've both run through an array of emotions and more than anything, neither of us is looking forward to having yet another project house. We already know we will have another project house because nothing is even remotely affordable. There's always hope... but we're both realistic about the current state of things and know that odds aren't on our side to avoid another big project. 

We've tried to also contemplate what the lessons are in this whole mess. I always believe that things happen for a purpose, though it isn't always entirely obvious what those reasons are. Certainly, we've both gained additional house renovating skills (though I'm of the belief that we would've been fine continuing on without those additional skills). I'm pretty convinced I've packed on pounds as well -- though I refuse to weigh myself. But, not finding much time for physical activity, how could I expect anything less? For Sam, I think the move helped him realize exactly where home is, but for me, the reasons seem a little less obvious or tangible. 

I know that I have learned that I am far less relaxed than I had believed myself to be. I have always seen myself as pretty easy-going (and I still think that is true in many portions of life), but after living in an area where the vast majority of people have no sense of time or personal responsibility, I think I am far more, for lack of better delineation at the moment, Type A than I believed myself to be. I like to get stuff done. I mean, yeah, I like to get stuff done so that I can f*ck off, but still, I want to get that stuff completed. I am grateful though that I know I am (we are) willing to work hard at the things that are important to me (us) and to those I care about.

I have also been reminded of my father a lot while living in Bend. I've mentioned in the past that we came here to visit in the late 80's/early 90s (I want to say it was 1989 or 1990, but we've debated this a bit within the family as we have different recollections of the summer of our Bend visit). We've passed places that I know with certainty we visited when we were here and it brings up a lot of emotion, having lost my dad just over six years ago. In some ways, it makes me feel closer to him, and in others it causes me to regret the many, many years we lost together. We didn't have much of an adult relationship and while we'd both made peace by the time of his passing, it's sad to think about the lost years that we could have had. In reality, I talk to him so much more now than I ever did when he was alive, which is both sad and not so in the same breath. 

Me and B-dog walking a path along the Deschutes River.

*Photo courtesy of my brother, who recently paid us a brief visit.

Our experience living in Oregon has had some highs and lows, but we are both entirely grateful to be in the process of heading back home to Colorado. I am thankful for the experience here, but I can't wait to ride in Colorado again, and although I am not looking forward to the extreme heat, winds, and potential/likely fires, we know that it is home. Hopefully, this time we'll have the opportunity to stay put, permanently. At least that is the hope. 

We don't have an exact timeline for our return just yet, but we remain hopeful that by mid(ish) June, we'll be back in the area, and hopefully will have found home again by the end of summer. I am also hopeful that life won't be quite as transient this summer as it was last and that life will pick up again fairly easily and quickly... but, I also know that is a hope and not necessarily what will take place. But, I look forward to hopefully having the opportunity to share more rides again in the relatively near future.

OMG!!! We have a house!

HOLY smokes (ha... I'm laughing aloud as the sky is actually smoky at the moment - and yes, I laugh at my own stupid puns)! It feels as though it's taken a year to find a place. It may seem like a crazy statement because we've only been in Oregon since mid-June (well, Sam's been here since the end of May), but living in a very small space (less than 30 sf) and having to move every 7-14 days, has made time seem to drag on. We weren't sure we were going to get here, but after being under contract for almost two months, canceling the purchase, and then coming back to the same house, we have finally closed and have keys.

Our first day of truly getting to spend time in the house without someone hovering over us, we took the opportunity to do some work that needed to be done as quickly as possible (e.g. removing the absolutely disgusting carpet -- side note: please don't ever feed pets by opening the food and spreading it all over the carpet - it's truly disgusting and unnecessary as dog bowls are plentiful and are readily available, sometimes even free). We were pleasantly surprised to find original wood beneath all of the carpet, even upstairs (which was likely originally only used as an attic space, so we weren't sure what we'd find), so that has, hopefully, saved us money. Time, well, that may actually be a bigger cost as the wood is mostly painted, and apparently painted multiple times, so I'm going to need to do some work to see what the best method for finishing them will be. My guess at the moment is that they'll end up getting painted again, but I don't object to seeing if it's possible to actually stain the wood.

Anyway, lest I carry off down the path of rambling on about what we may or may not do to the house, I will stop that tangent here, adding simply that although I am grateful to have a new home, I am overwhelmed by the amount of work that needs to be done. 

I did get to take my first ride in Bend yesterday, which was pretty exciting. In the weeks/months we've been here, I have been unable to actually ride in the city, so it was nice to get out for a bit. Granted, it was a very short ride, but right now, I'll take what I can get. I have a feeling that short rides are going to become normal for quite awhile. 

B-dog seems to have taken rather quickly to the new house, so we're grateful for that, too. She's enjoying exploring (as we have been doing), figuring out who to bark at (she loves people, but she is definitely protective of home and there are a lot of walkers/joggers/cyclists who pass by the front of the house) and where the best spots are to fetch, swim, and lay in the sun.

We've been working different muscles since arriving in Oregon, spending a lot more time on foot, so it will be interesting to see if the return to wheels will be quicker than anticipated or if we'll remain primarily on foot for a bit. Either way, it's nice to feel like we're on our way to settling and it is definitely good to know that we won't have to move all the time.

Bend!

We are unofficially living in Bend, Oregon. I still cannot believe the whirlwind that has taken place over the last several weeks. It feels as though life has completely changed (because it has), but I don't think my brain and body have quite caught up with everything. 

Our stuff... getting ready for storage until we find home again.

For a quick catch up, Sam accepted a job offer in Bend and we put our house in Colorado up for sale. The house was under contract in two days and closed in early June. The new owners were kind enough to allow us a little extra time to pack our stuff into shipping containers after closing and even after getting rid of what seemed like half of our belongings, we still didn't have enough storage so we ended up having to give up a lot of furniture the day we were leaving. It was upsetting in the moment, but I know that nothing was of any real value, so I have recovered and am looking forward to finding different stuff as we move forward. 

The real trouble has been that there is nothing to rent in the Bend area. Apparently (as we've been told), rentals in Oregon in general are an issue and there is an extreme shortage. We have been living in our 1960 camper (sans bathroom or sink, which is interesting, to say the least), searching for a home and in the interim trying to find anything to rent. Finding a place to put the camper is its own challenge as well because summer seems to be a time when every campsite within a 50-mile radius is full. Which means that we have to move every couple of weeks -- but we're figuring it out as we go. 

Because I cannot leave B-dog in the camper alone (both due to campsite rules and because it's been brutally hot and I wouldn't do that to her), I haven't been able to ride since arriving here a little over a week ago (and hadn't ridden much before we left either due to packing), but B-dog and I have been busy exploring different areas on foot. I pondered picking up a rather cool-looking dog trailer so that we could adventure together on the one bike I have with me, but after reading reviews, I became concerned that it wouldn't be suitable for her, and not having normal tools at our disposal, I think we'll have to continue on foot for the time being.

In 1989, my family came to this area to visit, thinking that we'd move here as my parents pondered future retirement; and in 1995, a friend and I drove to Bend to visit his grandparents who lived here and to allow us to get in some whitewater rafting, so I was somewhat aware of the area, but wasn't sure if my memory would match reality. After wandering for a bit, I'd say the answer is "somewhat." I remembered a lot of trees... and there are definitely a lot of trees, but I couldn't remember much else, other than the river. 

The Deschutes River from Drake Park

The things that surprised me? The clouds seem really close to earth. It was the first thing I noticed driving in to Oregon, actually. They seem as though I could get out a ladder and touch them -- that close. I had also forgotten how much desert-like landscape is around. As green as Bend itself is, desert foliage (if I can call it that) is also plentiful and the landscape seems to change very quickly from one spot to the next. Lava rock abounds (I keep thinking I should send some to a jeweler friend who looks for different sorts of materials to make items) and I've tripped no less than half a dozen times on it because I wasn't paying attention on trails. It seems like it has its own special mix of California and Colorado in the greenery, honestly, which probably makes sense given the weather fluctuations and elevation.

The people here also seem incredibly friendly. As I was passing by an intersection I was witness to an incident between a cyclist and a driver and it was entirely cordial (which kind of freaked me out, I will admit, as this is not my typical experience with drivers at all when I'm on a bike); but even beyond that interaction, people are generally friendly, wish a good day to passers-by, and on the whole, it has been pleasant thus far to not feel as though we've landed in a place with people who are rude or unfriendly. Those do exist here, but they seem to be more the minority.

Pilot Butte view from the top, looking west

Yesterday, B-dog and I decided to climb a "mound" that we kept seeing in town. It's called Pilot Butte and is actually a lava dome formed by an extinct volcano. I had seen people running and walking up and down it but when I went to find an entrance, it had a locked gate and said it was closed. Still, I kept seeing people so I knew there had to be a way up, which we eventually found. The views on the way up are quite spectacular, and honestly, none of the photos I took do any of it justice. The Cascades to the west and even the view to the east, north and south are a sight to behold. 

We've explored the Deschutes River thoroughly from various spots as well and have learned (particularly on these very hot days experienced recently) that everyone seems to spend the day in the water on a raft, tube, paddle board, or canoe, so my dreams of paddle boarding with the pup may come true. Yay! I keep reminding myself that we need somewhere to keep such things though, so for now, we just watch others and B-dog swims a bit to keep cool.

Food. There seems to be a lot of good food in this area. I am definitely no foodie by any stretch of the imagination, but I have had some of the best food of my life recently. Normally, we wouldn't eat out so much, but because of the housing situation, it's been more than I imagined. It's nice to know there are places to go though - whether for ourselves or when visitors stop in. 

We have walked more in the last 10 days than I have in a very long time. This morning, my hips were hurting so much that we had to dial it back a bit. I miss riding a bicycle, but I know that this is temporary and that hopefully, life can return to some sort of normal in the near future. Not having access to our stuff is a little frustrating, but I've learned how little we really need to survive. Which isn't to say that I don't miss some of the stuff (especially my art supplies and bicycles), but rather that I'm a bit more adaptable than I thought. I hope that home is coming and that we won't have to wait too long for it, but in the meantime, it gives time to check things out and get a sense of where things are in this new-to-us place. 

When life gives lemons

 *Just a couple of quick notes. To anyone who is currently subscribed via email, Feed Burner is discontinuing service for Blogger as of July 2021, which means that you will no longer receive email notification for posts after that time. Unfortunately, I have no control regarding this change, though I am looking into possible solutions (but cannot promise any resolution at this point, unfortunately). However, I thought it important to pass along the information for those who are subscribed and expect to receive emailed updates. Also, as you may have noted, I am back to writing here on Blogger. The Wordpress blog will also continue to be updated with posts for the time being, and at some point I will make a decision as to which platform is the best for my purposes, but until then, you can follow along here on Blogger or over at Wordpress here, if you prefer to get email updates regarding posts. Thank you for continuing to read and for sharing your thoughts.

We are in the midst of a bit of upheaval at the moment, and I tend to start questioning life in general when big changes or problems occur. I start to wonder the whys of things and what it is I am supposed to learn from the situation. Sometimes, there are answers, if I look hard enough, and other times it equates to more of a random sequence of events that is taking place that could happen to anyone. 

One of the unfortunate big happenings recently was discovering that our sewer line was collapsing. We had been having some drainage problems in the tub and sometimes with the toilet, but thought that the problems stemmed from a weeping pipe under the tub and some hair (mine/dogs) that likes to get stuck in the drain. After several attempts to resolve the issue, a plumber was called out at which point we were informed that the 60+ year old clay sewer line was cracked, shifting, collapsing, and likely wouldn't last longer than a few more weeks to perhaps a couple of months, if we were lucky. 

I was working in my studio when Sam came in to tell me the news. "Sixteen to twenty-two," he said would be the cost of replacing the line in the least expensive manner. 

"Well, it could be worse, I suppose," I responded with a slight facial twinge and shoulder shrug.  "That's a lot of money, but I guess we can figure it'll end up at about twenty-five hundred, just in case, and we'll eat lighter for awhile."

Sam looked at me a bit bewildered and then said, "No, THOUSAND, not hundred."

I gulped as my eyes widened. "You have to be kidding me? Why would it cost that much? It's a pipe.... in the ground... that's..." I trailed off for a few seconds. "It's... that's... a car... a down payment on a house... SO many bicycles ... it's..." I was still trying to understand how a single run of pipe could be so much money. "How do we even pay for something like that?" I questioned aloud. "How does anyone cover that sort of cost?"

We talked for awhile about the whys, the hows, and so on. We'd had the sewer scoped when we moved in over six years ago and it was "perfect," as the plumber had told and shown us, but things happen over time. Our temperatures fluctuate day to day a lot in Colorado and we have seasons of drought and then severe wet, which isn't ideal for a clay line, and certainly not one of this vintage. Whether we were prepared to deal with the issue was not a matter of debate. We just had to figure out how to resolve it and how we would financially handle such a huge amount at one time.

Generally, we are do-it-yourself kind of people, and if we are able to do so, we prefer to go that route, but this was not an instance for which we would be able to handle matters on our own, and the costs associated with not being able to perform the repair ourselves was not helping the mental struggle.

I was watching a brief segment on a home fix-it show recently and the individual said in the most blissful tone, "I feel like my life is just the best dream ever!" and it struck me because it's rare to hear someone claim that s/he believes their life is so fantastic that it feels like a dream. I started to think about moments that have felt like a dream in my life, and sadly, most of them seem to lean more toward nightmares than good dreams. Inevitably, this makes me wonder if I did something wrong and that the unfortunate moments are a result of my bad behavior -- that karmicly I have somehow brought about the misfortune. I have no delusions of being a saint, and I've perpetrated many wrongs over my multiple decades of life, but is there really a cause and effect, or is it simply a perception, a means of coping for humans that prompts us to look for a relationship in all things? 

When I look at matters from another angle though, I think about the fact that we are fortunate to be able to do many things for ourselves. So often it feels like life is throwing fire darts and we are weaving and dodging to steer clear; but in reality, if the same obstacles were presented to another person, they could be completely catastrophic. Even though I've dealt with some pretty horrendous moments in life, some of which I thought I'd never survive, I have managed to come through the other side relatively unscathed - or at least better off than some others might have.

It has been a rough few weeks at our house. The sewer line was replaced, but it came with a hefty price tag. The damage created in the yard was more significant than we anticipated, so of course, that had to be dealt with as well. 

Last week, we were also scheduled to say goodbye to our nearly-fifteen year old Labrador, who has endured so much longer than we ever thought she could, but I just couldn't go through with it. The struggle of determining when she is ready to go, and how much she is suffering can be so difficult because our pups hide so much of what they're really going through. It is the part of pet guardianship that I dread. 

Unfortunately, early this week we had to actually say goodbye to our girl. I remembered from past experience that there is such sadness, but I had forgotten how empty I would feel. I look for her everywhere in the house, reach for her, thinking that she's going to brush by me, looking for a pat on the head or a scratch, and then remember she isn't there. We removed all of her dog beds because I didn't think I could handle seeing them empty without her, but even removing the reminder has been difficult. There is a giant hole in my heart and I can't seem to stop sobbing. I know that time will heal the pain, at least to some extent, but no matter how many fur-kids we lose, I never get used to the agony of their passing. For me, it is like losing a close member of the family.

I am grateful to still have our Golden-girl, and she is doing her very best to comfort us as she feels the loss of her housemate as well. It's during these rough times that I find myself wondering and thinking about the whys of life, my purpose, and the reasons for most everything in day-to-day life. Often, I am unable to come up with any explanations, but I still attempt to make some sort of sense and order of it. I get up each day and try to get through the little moments, knowing that there is ultimately better, good times in the future. Some moments are tougher than others, but if I can fumble my way through, hopefully, I'll come out the other side a better version of myself, with a few more experiences, and better able to understand it all.

An Unlikely Garden

A few years ago, at our former home, I had decided that we should really attempt to grow a little vegetable garden in our backyard. We didn't have a lot of space to do so because the yard was almost completely covered in shade, but we managed to section off an area and used whiskey barrels as planters for an experiment in growing our own food.

The experiment was somewhat successful, but at least three-quarters of what we attempted to grow never made it into actual food. We found some success with spinach in the spring and bell peppers in the summer, but beyond that, it kind of all fell apart. I chalked it up to not having a green thumb and figured we just weren't meant to have a vegetable garden.

After moving into our current home about a year and a half ago, we quickly realized that growing anything in our backyard, food-wise or other, would be impossible as it sees only about an hour total of very late day sun. I was not interested in a repeat of what had happened prior, and I knew that sun was likely the biggest issue we'd had in that location.

The front yard of our new home, however, was a glowing food-beacon of promise. There is a lot of real estate available in this space and absolutely no shade at any point in the day until the very late hours of afternoon. My only concern was the neighborhood and the thought that perhaps some neighbors would find such a thing unsightly.

But, we do not have a neighborhood association and although we weren't looking to create enemies in neighbors, we figured it is our yard to do with as we please. Since there are not city laws to forbid it and no association to say we couldn't, we figured this space would be our future garden. So, last summer, our first summer here, we began preparation in the yard, digging up the grass (that was actually mostly dead-weeds that had been mowed) and preparing raised boxes for garden beds.

Of course, neighbors became curious as to what it was we were doing because the yard was a mess of progress for the entire spring and summer in 2015. I have no doubt many of them shook their heads wondering what these two new-to-the-neighborhood youngsters (to our neighbors we are definitely "youngsters" as the majority are into their 70's and beyond) were doing tearing up their yard and seemingly leaving it in such disarray.

My biggest neighbor-concern was the house directly next door. They have maintained a perfectly manicured space the entire time we have lived here, with a perfectly-groomed-at-all-times yard consisting of a deep-green colored lawn with exactly zero weeds and a precisely arranged flower bed (also somehow entirely weed-free) around their house.  They spend their days working diligently to maintain this yard, but I was concerned that they would disapprove of our choice of garden in the front.

Preparations began last summer to ease the neighbors in, sharing often our plans for the yard. Conversations consistently ended with, "and of course we will share the veggies with you too!" hoping that it would soften the news. The neighbors next door are perhaps the sweetest couple I've met in a very long time, but I have had experience with meticulous yard-folk in the past and they can be very particular about what is acceptable as front yard landscaping. I could never quite tell from their expressions and reactions if they were accepting of what was to come, or if they were cursing us under their breath. Perhaps it was a little of both.

In reality, we really aren't farmer/gardener sorts of people in our household. Yes, we'd love to reap the benefits of fresh food at our doorstep, but neither of us has a ton of experience with growing food successfully or even unsuccessfully. But, as with most things we've done in life, the only way to learn is to research and then try it out to see what happens. I know I've always learned better by doing, so we were jumping into this garden hoping for the best, but realizing it may very well end up as a bunch of flower beds or other greenery if we failed.

Beyond having fresh vegetables and fruit to consume during the summer and early fall, my hope with planting the garden in the front was to provide an opportunity to chat with neighbors. Most people seem to keep to themselves and rarely do we see people on the street stopping to talk to one another. It isn't that they're unfriendly, but I had hopes that having to tend to the garden in the front would provide an opportunity for others to stop by and ask how things were coming along and hopefully start conversations.

Frankly, I was concerned about whether we could even manage to keep a vegetable garden alive after our prior experience, but we felt better prepared to deal with set up and maintenance this round and went to work creating a drip system that would allow for better watering, prepared better soil for growing, and chose a variety of plants so that at least some of them would (hopefully) succeed. I told myself that this current spring and summer would be an experiment, simply to see what would grow.

I was thrilled that something was growing in the garden early in the season

Our early success was with spinach; however, we have little appropriate weather for growing in the spring and the spinach quickly bolted (making it bitter and no longer usable) in the heat and we were giving it away left and right just prior to its end.

We were successful with growing red leaf, head, romaine, and a 'greens mix' of lettuces through late spring and early summer

A variety of lettuces also did well and provided several summer salads for us and for friends and neighbors who were willing to try out our experiment. As with the spinach, when the weather really heated up, the lettuce became bitter and no longer edible though. While we'd been enjoying our lettuce and spinach, I wasn't sure if any of the other plants would make it.

We had planted a variety of other items including: potato, jalapeño and a few other hot peppers, bell pepper, three varieties of tomato, strawberries, green onion, broccoli, three varieties of cucumber, celery, two varieties of melon, pumpkin, kale, as well as a few herbs in a narrower but taller raised bed.

We had considered growing zucchini squash, but hadn't had the best luck with it in the past and it tends to be something that takes over the garden in my past limited experience, so we decided against it.

Slowly, something started to happen. It was gradual and I almost forgot that it was one of the reasons for planting the garden at all, but community started to form. Neighbors began to walk over to say hello. Walkers stopped to ask about containers or watering. People driving by would park, get out, walk over and have conversations as I was weeding or pulling off bits for a meal. It was amazing!

Both the lettuce and spinach were dying off at this point in late June/early July, and everything else was still quite small. I wondered if anything else would survive long enough to turn into food at all.

Granted, the garden didn't look great, but it was bringing out people who we had rarely or never spoken to for conversation. I always offered up some of what was available to anyone who stopped over. Some accepted, others were hesitant. Some even refused entirely, but still came back for conversation at later times, and many accepted the offer upon second or third visit.

The melons and the pumpkins we had planted I was sure would never grow. A few weeks after they'd gone into the ground, I'd had a conversation with a friend who stated that both are difficult to grow if the soil is wrong. Not being very well versed in vegetable garden matters, and after seeing the leaves of the plants at this point,turning yellow and brown, I was convinced they wouldn't survive. I did my best to tend to them, knowing that we were likely in for a yard full of empty garden beds.

The beginnings of celery and pumpkin, just before they started to really turn yellow and brown and appear as though they were near-death. The melons looked even worse than these at this point. I had also planted a couple of flowers in each of the boxes, hoping that it would bring bees to pollinate. Even the flowers seemed to be dying though.

As it happened, one of the three varieties of cucumber I'd planted turned out to actually be zucchini squash. This was discovered one day as I was whining to Sam about the lack of growth in the garden. He had gone out to see how things were coming along after work one day and said upon his return, "You know there's a large cucumber growing in there, right? It's under all the leaves."

"What?!" I responded, "Something is actually growing?"

I hurried out to take a look for myself and sure enough there was a very large cucumber growing. Except, I was pretty certain it wasn't a cucumber.

"I don't think that's a cucumber," I said hesitantly. "The skin looks exactly like zucchini."

I pulled it off as it was about 6 inches in diameter and decided to give it a taste. "Yep, zucchini," I nodded, as if reassuring myself that I wasn't entirely crazy. "Definitely not cucumber."

I'm sure it's very easy to confuse the two plants when they are small, so I've no doubt it was simply mislabeled, but man alive, that was a very large zucchini squash I had on my hands. Food was actually growing!

A new crop of zucchini is popping up. This one is still quite small compared to those that have been pulled off thus far in the season. In the lower section of the photo, just right of the middle, a small lemon cucumber can also be seen maturing.

A few days later, I wandered out to check on things and took a peek under the leaves again and there were multiple large zucchini appearing as if by magic. At this same moment, our next door neighbor came over to say hello.

"Your garden is looking so nice!" she exclaimed. "Those." she said, pointing to the jalapeños, "They are looking lovely. You must have quite the green thumb."

I couldn't help but giggle inside about the green thumb comment as I seem to kill nearly everything plant-based that we attempt to grow, and I was still unsure if I should take this comment about the garden looking nice at face value or if she and her husband were actually displeased about the vegetables starting to take over the front. They had politely refused each of my vegetable offerings in the past, but I decided to try one more time.

"Would you like some?" I offered. "I have jalapeño and salsa peppers, if you'd like to take some home."

"Oh, could I?" she responded softly. "That would be wonderful!"

I couldn't help but smile both outside and in.

"Is that kale you have growing back there?" she inquired in her soft-spoken way as she pointed to one of the boxes a few feet away.

"Yeah, it is. I wasn't sure it would grow, but it seems to be doing pretty well. Would you like some of that too?" I asked. "It's getting a little out of hand and I need to give some away."

She nodded and I went to get a container for her to take home her small stash. We spoke briefly about how we cook various items and I told her that both she and her husband were welcome to anything they'd like from the garden. She thanked me and returned home.

I let out a sigh of relief and ran inside to Sam.

"I think the neighbors might actually be okay with the garden!" I exclaimed bursting through the door. "I just gave them a few peppers and some kale and it seemed to go well."

I was aware that I was overly thrilled about this, but it was nice to be able to share what we had with those around us. Sam was not as elated as I had been, but he smiled and nodded in approval, if for no other reason than to appease me in my excited state.

The pumpkins forming are numerous and one (unseen here) is already larger than a basketball.

Today, those sad, dying pumpkin and melon plants are actually flourishing. The two very small pumpkin plants that I thought would never survive, managed to come back and began to spread out, forming flowers as they grew. Slowly, small gourds began to appear and today there are a number of pumpkins continuing to expand on the vine.

The green onion is sprouting up nice and tall, and is smelling, well, very onion-y, as it should. Perhaps planting berries directly next to these was poor judgment, but when one believes everything planted is going to die off, it seems to make little difference.

We are pleased to see everything taking shape though. In fact, the only thing that hasn't done well has been the broccoli (that can just barely be seen behind the onion above). While the plants themselves have done well, the florets haven't done as they should and will likely be inedible, unfortunately.

Tomatoes are abundant, though most have not yet turned red. We've learned some lessons about what not to do with these in the future as well because they have become an inter-tangled mess with the gourds and melons growing around them. As the branches begin to bend with the weight of fruit, attempting to reach the tomatoes for plucking without trampling other vegetables is a tad challenging too. Not a horrible problem to have though for two people who believed nothing would grow.

With the garden, our immediate community seems to be flourishing as well. People who once barely waved in passing now take a moment to stop and actually chat about life happenings. We have learned that we are not entirely surrounded by the elderly (not that there would be anything wrong with that at all) and that there are many different people of all ages and from different backgrounds within close proximity. We've even inspired a couple of others to begin their own gardens, though they have preferred to keep theirs in the backyard rather than the front.

The front yard garden today. We've pulled the dying lettuce and spinach, but everything else continues to expand.

There was a time when home vegetable gardens were entirely common but they seemed to fade away for the most part with the passage of time. The last several years have brought a resurgence, but it's still not entirely common to find these in front yards. I believe a front yard garden is a wonderful way to get to know neighbors though and a great use of space, especially if this is the only area with a steady supply of sun. After all, if we're going to water something anyway, I'd at least like to make it something useful and usable - and even share-able with others - and it's provided us all an opportunity to get to know each other a little bit better too.

This unlikely garden has been a challenging but entirely pleasant undertaking, providing nourishment for both body and soul. I hope it is something we can continue to share with others and that those unknown to us will keep stopping with questions or simply to say hello. Much like riding a bicycle rather than driving, I'm finding that when we are out in our surroundings, talking with others becomes far less challenging, invisible barriers break down, and conversation presents itself without much effort at all.

A Quick Break

Hi!

Perhaps it's just me, but it seems as though I've been away for such a long time. I am hopeful that things will be calming down in the near future (let's say a couple of weeks-ish) and I'll have somewhat of a more regular appearance here. For now though, I just wanted to thank everyone for your kind words with the loss of our little guy and for the thoughts on continuing to write here. In a strange way, the house move and renovations have made me miss blogging (and even more importantly, riding) more than ever.

This is what life looks like these days. Walls being removed, lots of dust, and related fun.

My body is strained and hurts like it never has. I wake myself up in the night unable to roll over without extreme concentration... and inevitably a loud moan seems to be a necessary companion to these normally very simple movements. Most days, I can barely stand without feeling as though my body is going to collapse beneath me. I wake in the morning to swollen hands and the thoughts of all that still needs to be done.

In short, I feel broken. Renovations are no joke! I suppose this is often why people pay others to do the work. But, the good news is that we have made enough progress that we have been able to move into the new place. Yay! I am not a person who does well living out of boxes, so with the exception of one of the rooms that we can't quite use yet, things are pretty well unpacked. The tough part with moving into a project is that having all of our stuff here makes moving around to do work a little more awkward.

We have had a couple of absolutely gorgeous days here in Colorado, and I haven't been able to enjoy them, unfortunately. Such a crime! Reaching the 70s F this time of year is simply unheard of, and I am kind of kicking myself for not allowing a bit of a break to enjoy such a treat, but I know there will be time for riding and that getting home set up is important to us so that we know we have a functional and comfortable base.

This morning, I looked longingly at the Hillborne and thought, "If only..." Then the new Rodriguez was eyeballing me too. It wasn't easy to walk by and fetch the tool I actually needed. I realized also in that quick moment that the city bike has a flat tire... something that normally would be immediately addressed, but for now will have to sit and wait its turn.

So, since I haven't been able to get out at all and enjoy riding a bike, I'm hoping some of you might be willing to share a story about a recent ride for you. Anything exciting going on in your area? Upcoming bike projects, rides, etc? I need a fix until I can get back out on two wheels. Hope you're all doing well and looking forward to getting back to posting soon.

Happy New Year!

A very happy New Year to all! I hope you're looking forward to the start of 2015. I know that it has been a bit of a crazy, chaotic mess for the E.V.L. household at the end of 2014. As stated prior, I knew we were in for a busy several weeks and months, but it's been no joke! The last several weeks have been challenging, sad, and somewhat fulfilling, making it a confusing end to the year, for sure.

*Image found here

The start of renovating the home we purchased has been nearly all-consuming. We wanted to do our best to get as much completed before moving in. We've managed to do much more than I anticipated thus far, but along with the projects came some frustration and realization that not everything is going as smoothly as we'd hoped.

In addition, just before Christmas, we lost one of our dogs. My heart still stings when I think about it. Our small dog, Gandolf, had been dealing with a lump on his head near his eye and I'd taken him to a variety of veterinarians in an attempt to have it removed. It was quite apparent that it was causing him much pain, but no one was taking the steps to move forward with removal.

Finally, one vet agreed to remove the lump. I was nervous, but knew it needed to be done because he was now avoiding eating due to the pain. Before surgery began, I was informed that the (as I'd been told prior) benign cyst was actually a cancerous tumor and it was very aggressively eating the bone in his skull. There was nothing they could do to help him and we suddenly found ourselves switching from how-much-is-this-surgery-going-to-cost to holy-cow-we're-going-to-lose-our-family-member.

Always digging for trouble... you'll be missed my little man.

It was crushing to say the least. I still cry and miss him because our dogs are very much our children and such a huge part of our lives. This little guy was a ray of sunshine, always protective of me, the best lap dog ever, and always looked at me as though I could do no wrong. He had a rough start in this world and sadly I couldn't protect him from the cancer that stole him too early. His just over 12 years with us were full of times I know we won't forget. It's difficult not to have him around every day, but I've tried to keep the good memories close to prevent the heartache which takes over more often than I'd prefer.

In the midst of all of dealing with the loss of our little guy, we had drama with the house closing and weren't sure it was going to take place. It did close, though not without delays and road blocks. Eventually, we were able to get into the house and put hammer to walls and scrapers to flooring and work got under way.

Through all of this, I have learned that I am not nearly as resilient or hearty as I believed prior. We've completed many home renovation projects through the years, but attempting to finish an entire house in a matter of a few weeks by ourselves is exhausting, daunting and overwhelming. Each project seems to take 2-3 times longer than anticipated, and often the costs fall in line with those same figures.

By no means are we at the end of our renovations, but soon it will be time to begin moving the household over which will no doubt bring another layer of difficulty to the process; but paying for two homes simultaneously isn't exactly prudent (or an option) either. The super messy projects will hopefully be completed before the move and the rest will be items to work on as we go forward.

In all of this, I've been pondering my inability at times to look at things in small segments or to allow things to simply be what they are rather than trying to force an outcome. I think I have done just this with the blog and allowed myself (at least during more stressful times) to feel as though I'm letting someone down by not posting. Velouria made an excellent point in her comment on my last post when she stated that perhaps I've put pressure on myself to put up posts and I should allow the freedom for posts to be more of a when-I-feel-like-posting sort of thing. Others made similar comments at various points and I've appreciated every idea and have let it all sink in.

With this, I intend to move forward with the blog, but I know it will be entirely sporadic for at least several weeks and/or there may still be a long lag time before anything remotely thoughtful is written. I believe 2014 was one of the roughest years I've experienced in some time and I'm looking forward to a better coming year. Sometimes I seem to let the life stuff get to me and it can be challenging to find equity in all parts of existence, but I have hope that with some work I can find that balance in the coming year.

Wishing you and yours a very peaceful, prosperous, and happy cycling New Year! I look forward to continuing our chats about bicycles in 2015.

Update: Random Tidbits

I am entirely distracted for the time being, and because of that, I thought that I would simply put up a quick update so that no one thinks I've disappeared off of the planet. Most of this has little to do with bicycles or riding, but there is one very exciting bit on bikes that I'm thrilled to share.

First and foremost, we are in the midst of house hunting once again. There's been a lot of discussion over the previous months as to whether or not we would be leaving Colorado. Often times, it feels as though we are being called elsewhere, but when we really sat down and talked about "home," we are fairly certain we are there. It's difficult to imagine living anywhere else. We may struggle through the colder, icier months, but the reality is that we have what we want here.

With that decision came the realization that we need to find a home once again. Our temporary rental has been (and continues to be) a great spot for us to wait for our next home, but we are anxiously (probably far too anxiously) awaiting our permanent (as permanent as anything can be) future home. The house hunt is nothing short of exhausting (mentally and physically), particularly being in a hot market locally, but we are hopeful that the right home for us is just around the corner. There have already been several offers and inspections, but nothing ultimately has been the right place for us. I am learning to practice a skill that, at times, is difficult for me: patience.

Last weeks' weather from 68F down to 17F in a couple of hours was a big switch!
*Image from Weather Underground

A week ago, I was outside, enjoying a brilliantly fabulous, warm fall day. Within two hours, clouds had rolled in and the temperatures had dropped well below freezing and snow began to fall. That day was followed by several more even colder and snowier days, so it's been interesting fighting my want to be outside with the reality that everything goes numb when doing so.

Today has been the first day that's warmed up to a remotely tolerable temperature, and the sun has come out which seems to have at least taken the mental challenges away with heading out. Sunshine is wonderful!

Photo credit: Rodriguez Bikes

In bicycle news, I was emailed a photo of my now-officially-finished Rodriguez bike. I am beyond excited to get this bike in my hands (which should happen at some point over the next week-ish time frame). If I can get the snow to melt a bit and temps to stay above 20F, I should be able to at least test it out soon.

The Rodriguez will have my pedals, a different saddle and handlebars, as well as different bar tape, but this is pretty much what it looks like with those minor changes to come on arrival. The fenders were a last minute decision based on the time of year, and I think it was a good one. I'm really looking forward to being able to ride this and hopefully provide some additional info soon.

Hopefully, life is treating all of you well and you're still enjoying a pleasant fall season! Happy riding.

Thankful: An Update on Life

It's been quiet here for a bit, and I feel the need to apologize. While I realize I don't owe anyone an explanation, I do seem to share so much of what's taking place in life here, that it only seems fitting to fill readers in on at least some of the details. Life has been in a bit of turmoil (I don't want to be overly dramatic because nothing that has happened is as life-altering as some have had to experience) but writing here has just had to take a back seat. After Sam returned from his mini-adventure with the new job in California, and we realized that we were staying in Colorado after all, we attempted to get out of the sale of our home, but unfortunately, there were a lot of circumstances that were simply out of our control.  The buyer wanted to carry through with purchasing the house, and we were left to wait things out. The theme for my mental state over the last few weeks has been kind of a que sera sera attitude.

Que sera sera
*Image found here

As stated in a former post, we couldn't exactly start looking for another home because there was always the possibility that the buyer could back out, or that the house wouldn't appraise. Surely (as my thought process seemed to go), our house was in no way worth what this individual was going to pay for it. Please don't misunderstand. I love our house and we've worked hard to change and add and do all the things that make it feel like home, but it's a small place that has limited potential. Although I didn't want to live in a fantasy world, I thought that the odds were likely in our favor, and that the appraiser just wouldn't see the value in the house - particularly as his job is to assess the home on facts, not emotion - and I was certain that this would be our means of staying right where we were.

But life, well, life had other plans for us. Six days from closing we got a message from our Realtor that the house had appraised and everything was set to close as scheduled. As we were told, we needed to find another place to go. Before this day arrived, we had started looking for rentals and homes for sale. Unfortunately, both are scarce in this area at the moment and there are individuals battling it out for places that normally would sit for some time. Small homes are renting for hundreds more than they should be, and purchases are no different in that they have escalated to levels we haven't seen since before the crash of several years ago. We were amazed to discover that we were one of 50 applicants at the first rental we saw. Yes, fifty. I couldn't help but believe that there was no way on earth we were going to find a place to go in less than a week, knowing that we have pets and were up against so many others who had probably been searching for weeks or even months.

In all of this, we had a friend offer to allow us to stay in his home until we secured a place to live. It was quite a relief to know that we'd have at least a temporary place to go until something came along. Unfortunately, things quickly became strained and before we even started moving any items in, the plan quickly disintegrated. I won't get into the details of this piece of things because it is a long tale all its own, but suffice to say we were completely unsure of what to do at this juncture. Sam has family to the north east part of the state, but it would be an incredibly long/difficult drive every day for an undetermined amount of time, and they have no extra space (although they very graciously offered to take us in, and we were seriously considering this as an option for a short time).

The timing of all of this couldn't have been worse and only added to the immense stress that was permeating life. Not only were we going to be homeless in a matter of days, but as quickly as we'd spot a potential home possibility, we'd quickly realize that there were dozens of applicants within a matter of a day in each instance. I was coming to understand that we were very soon going to be without a home, perhaps living in our vehicle with all of our things in storage. Having experienced homelessness first hand in the past, I was mentally preparing for what was to come. At the same time, the "whatever will be, will be" thought remained in my mind. I kept singing the songs' chorus in my head when I'd find myself ready to have a break down.... "Que sera, sera... whatever will be will be... the future's not ours to see. Que sera, sera." It has been a mantra of sorts to get me through the tough moments, hours and days.

I was trying to keep everything in perspective. No one was dead, the world was not coming to an end, and in the grand scheme of things, all of the happenings were very minor. I have to say, it's amazing what hope does for a person in times like these though. Any little possibility or small seedling of chance would bring my mood up tremendously. I continued to have people tell me that I "seemed to be handling things so well." What most didn't realize is that I was actually feeling quite fragile and alone. Some would ask why we had put the house up for sale so soon, others wondered why Sam hadn't stayed at the job for a bit longer. In my mind, all of the questions were moot because all we could do was deal with what was happening now. No one can change the past and the only choice was to use those little slivers of hope to believe that something was meant to come our way. I tried desperately to stay positive, but it was easier to say the words than it was to actually believe them.

A few days before our house was to close, Sam spotted a house for rent on Craigslist that seemed to have been miscategorized. He called to see if the house was still available, and set up a time for me to go and take a look. When I arrived, I was informed by the property manager that she'd just sold a house for another couple and had promised them first dibs at this place as they also only had a few days to find a home. She said it would be a downsize for them so they may not be interested, but I wasn't holding my breath, fully expecting that we'd get a call stating that they were going to take the house. With the market the way it is presently, how could anyone turn down any opportunity? I knew that the house would work well for our needs, but knowing that we were dealing with competition, I just couldn't let myself believe that it was even possible we'd end up with this house. To my amazement, within 24-hours we received word that the couple had passed on it. Later I would learn that they had merely missed the time cut off she'd given to them and moved on to us. Thank goodness for little favors.

I cannot express enough the relief felt when we found out that we would have a place to move. It was as if a huge weight had been removed and it seemed that we could finally move forward - particularly because we now were down to a day before we had to start moving. I spoke in my last post about the realization that I would miss sitting in our front room watching the squirrels, cyclists and walkers as they meandered by, but I have to say, I have an even better spot for such things in our new home. I feel fortunate that despite all of the feelings of sickness or being ill-at-ease with the situation, I think we've managed to land on our feet somehow.

Our "mini-city" hill. We had a bit of a haze on this particular eve.

The move has been interesting. Even though we have only been here a few days and are only about a mile from our old home, it feels almost like a different world. I have nicknamed it "mini San Francisco" because the house is on a fairly steep hill that has a decent amount of motorized traffic, as well as cyclists, dog walkers, and the convenience of almost anything we could need within walking distance. Our old street was inordinately quiet, whereas this house almost always has some sort of background noise. Some might not like it, but we were looking for a shake up, a change of sorts, and even though we are virtually in the same location, it really does feel completely different. We are still adjusting to the traffic noise, particularly at night, but we think that this will be a great spot for us to recover from the admittedly mostly self-inflicted stresses of the last month and focus on the things we enjoy once again.

We were so fortunate to have help from friends and family when it came time to move. Truly, I don't know what we would've done without them. I thought I would have a difficult time saying goodbye to our old house, but as things came down from the walls, books came off the shelves, and nick knacks were put into boxes, I realized that it wasn't home anymore. Through it all, I knew that it was merely a "thing," and that a house is not a home, but rather home is what, where, and with whom we choose to make it. The box itself is of little consequence. I was a little sad to say goodbye to my studio, the garden, and our newly finished kitchen, but again, I realize these are just things - and all things that can be replaced in time and in another location.

A little piece of the yard. I think it will be even better as the foliage begins to come in next month.

When I walked into the new place on moving day, with two friends at my side, they were excited about our new space. I couldn't help but think they were merely appeasing me as the house smelled musty, surfaces were dirty, and I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach about all of it (not because of the house, but simply because of all that had transpired so quickly). When we entered the backyard, one stated that she knew where the summer BBQ parties are going to be held this year, and commented on very much liking the yard... Which, frankly, just made me smile - both outside and in. Whether known to them or not, those little encouraging comments throughout all of this have made all of it so much easier. When I had minor breakdowns about the very real possibility of having to give up one (or more) of our dogs, they offered hugs and suggestions - or just listened to me cry about giving up part of the family (as a side note, I am happy to report that all pets have and will remain with us).

As we finished taking all of our things from one house to the other, it seemed fitting that the last load to transfer was done by bicycle. My trusty Hillborne was loaded up with his trailer and I carried over the last remaining items - two of which just so happened to be our dog waste bucket and shovel. It's funny the looks one gets when riding down the road with what seems like non-typically transported-by-bike items. I wondered what others thought I was doing as the combination of items could easily be construed as being up to no good. I couldn't help but giggle a bit as I rode down the road, poop bucket strapped to the top of my trailer, and severe head winds blasting me, leaving (I'm certain) a trail of stench for anyone coming behind me. "That's right," I thought as I pedaled toward our new home, "leave all the shit behind you because you're on to better things."  I arrived feeling grateful, blessed, and loved by those around us, and I don't think I would've wanted the last trip to be any other way.

Life is starting to settle in now. It's amazing that so much transpired in a matter of less than two weeks. Hours often felt like days and days moved forward like weeks, especially with so much left to the unknown. As quickly as the stress and madness entered, it seems to have dissipated just as quickly, and for that I am beyond thankful. Who knows what is coming down the road, but for the time being we are grateful to have a place to lay our heads, our family together, and a reminder that even though we can't always control every little moment or situation, life is what we make of it. If this is the most difficult time of 2014, I will happily accept it and move on to what awaits us on the other side of this event.

Springtime

Spring has sprung, and it's a beautiful day in northern Colorado. We are currently on a roll of warmer but windy temperatures and are due for a bit of snow over the next several days too. I look forward to this time of year with anticipation because it means that soon I won't have to bring or wear an overcoat, trees, grass, and other foliage will soon be turning varying shades of green once again, and the never-ending dryness that abounds comes to an end. Our poor tulips started coming up a few weeks ago, and I'm always amazed at how they are able to survive the snow that is still to come and will continue to push their way to full height as spring marches on. I love this time of year because I know the parts of winter that I don't much enjoy will soon come to a close. The weather isn't quite hot yet, but I also rarely need to wear multiple glove layers or trudge around in snow boots. I feel life springing back to what feels more normal to me personally.

The tulips are coming - ready or not!

When I think of spring, I picture several months of mild temperatures, but I know that is far from what takes place for this region. In reality, we will continue to whip back and forth between mid-60 degree days and snowy, 30 degree days. These are just the facts when it comes to living in this area. I have slowly grown to accept this and my idea of spring has somewhat changed because of it. Instead of waiting for the snow to end, I have learned to appreciate days like today that fall in between the colder days. I understand now that this is spring in Colorado. Suddenly one day, and seemingly without warning, it will simply be hot and I will wonder what happened to the mild spring I had anticipated. I will ponder how we could have only had a couple of weeks of mild weather and then find myself in the depths of summer heat, forgetting that we experienced many beautiful, sunny days throughout March, April and May.

One of my favorite views from our yard in the spring.

I am particularly grateful for this spring in Colorado. Never has this place felt more like home to me, and never have I been more unsure of what is going to take place over the coming weeks and months. When Sam left for California a couple of weeks ago, I was prepared to say goodbye, but finding it difficult to come to terms with the reality of moving from this area and leaving our home. The job that seemed so right, so perfect, and so full of possibilities took a quick turn, and Sam realized just how different what he was told and what he was doing (and going to be doing) would be. Listening to his senses, his instincts, and acknowledging what was taking place physically in front of him, Sam elected to let the opportunity in California go, and return to Colorado. Which means that what we thought was going to take place in regard to moving is not happening, and we will be staying in the area.

Last spring, we planted many berries and vegetables in whiskey barrels. This spring, these may see a different use by their new owner.

A new conundrum had developed, however. With Sam's return to the state, our home has been under contract and is set to close at the end of the month. As the seller, there is currently no opportunity for us to be released from the contract with the buyer, and unless they opt to back out of the contract, or the house doesn't appraise, the sale will move forward. It has left us with unwanted/unneeded stress and unsurety. While there are extremely few homes available here at the moment (which creates its own issues), we are unable to proceed with anything because of the possibility of the buyer backing out.

Already seeing signs of spring in the grass turning green again

And, so, we wait. We wait and we pack. We play out scenarios of getting to stay in our home. We attempt to decipher what lessons are to be learned in all of this. But, in all of it, we understand that we have zero control over the present situation. Decisions were made, and now the consequences have to be dealt with as we move forward.

I sit frequently in our living room as I type posts and do other work. We are fortunate to have windows surrounding this spot of our home. I get to look out at the trees as they change through the seasons, the birds as they chirp and hunt for food, the squirrels as they bounce across branches and telephone wires, people walking their dogs or riding their bikes - I see all of these things and I become (probably more than I should be) emotional realizing that this spot of quiet, this place of reflection may not (and likely will not) be part of our lives in the very near future. I think about the garden just started last spring and how the whiskey barrel garden experiment was so short lived. Of course, we can attempt these same things in a new spot, but it was somehow easier to say goodbye to this space when moving to a completely new area.  Realizing that we will be in the same city, and not living in our home is far more painful.

There is nothing to feel sorry for ourselves about in all of this, nor do I expect (or want) others to have pity for us. As I said, decisions were made and we proceeded with what seemed the best option for our future. Wallowing in those choices now does nothing to move us forward. We wanted change and a bit of a shake up, and perhaps that is exactly what we are in for - though just not in the part of the country we anticipated. I have so much to be grateful for, including our time in this home, in this space. Spring is a time of renewal, of change, of beauty, and much like the season itself here in Colorado, we are in for some varying conditions over the coming weeks. I hope that I can look at these changes through the same glasses as I am able to view the spring season this year. I want to welcome the change and be inspired by all of it, knowing that this isn't necessarily a negative or a positive, but simply part of life and choices made.

Déjà vu

There never seems to be a dull moment in our house, despite the fact that we (the humans) in the household tend to prefer to cultivate pretty mellow lives (I won't speak for the fur-kids, as they have their own agenda most of the time). Much as I want to think of myself as a generationally-displaced hippy, I know there are those Type-A traits hiding deep down that prevent the hippy side from ever completely taking over (I'm not really a Type A - nor a true hippy- but I definitely have my moments on both sides of the fence, if I'm being totally honest).

One of my favorite San Francisco sites (and sights!)
*Image found here

If you've been reading here for awhile, you may recall this post in which I announced that the E.V.L. household would be on the move to the west coast, thanks to a great occupational opportunity for Sam - which was quickly followed up by this post stating that the job offer had been rescinded and we would be staying put here in Colorado. I think we were both somewhat relieved and also sad that we weren't going to be making the move, but it turned out to be quite a fortuitous happening as Sam ended up in the hospital very shortly thereafter - and we would've had no medical insurance if we'd been in San Francisco as planned. I've said it before, and I'll say it again - everything happens for a reason. Even though Sam was disappointed not to have the opportunity, we figured we were supposed to stay put and continue on with life.

So, here we are, merrily living our lives (okay, maybe not as merrily in the depths of snow and winter since we're both "summer" people - but still - living as happily as possible). We continued on with our home renovation projects, thinking that we needed to finish up quite a few of them. One day about a month ago, Sam went into work as usual. When he returned from lunch, he was informed that there was going to be an "emergency meeting," during which he was told that the company (which, by the way, just hired him about 6 months prior) had just laid-off 10 individuals (and escorted them out of the building), that there would likely be more lay-offs to come, and the company hasn't turned a profit in nearly a decade. WhaaaaAAAt?! I was in shock hearing the news as Sam sat reliving the afternoon from work to me.

Not everyone's cup of tea, but this was one of our home projects that's kept us entertained: painted walls, redone cabinets, new butcher block countertops, a CL-find farm sink, new faucet, "brick" backsplash, new electrical/outlets, and (not pictured) recessed can lighting. A totally different place to hang out. I love that we do all of these things ourselves... though sometimes it makes for its own headaches along the way. On a side note, I'm pretty convinced I'd live well in a shack somewhere, as long as I had electricity and water... okay, and maybe a sewer system of some sort... and heat. Okay, maybe I am not as ready to live in an abandoned cabin as I want to believe.

"So, do you still have a job?" was the thought on the tip of my tongue, but before I could bring myself to actually ask it, Sam stated, "So, guess who called me today?" with a devious little look in his eye. At first, I stared blankly, and then, as if I had a psychic moment, I said, "NOOO?! No way!" The very company that had offered and rescinded the job opportunity last spring wanted to know if he had any interest in coming that direction. The interesting piece in all of this is that Sam hasn't been particularly happy about his new position (for a variety of reasons), but has tried to make the best of the situation. He had drafted an e-mail to the company who had made the offer last year, thinking that he would follow up with them and see how things were going, and just never sent it... and then they contacted him. A serendipitous coincidence? Perhaps.

Then, a waiting game began. The director who'd spoken with Sam said that he'd be meeting with the executives and would get back to Sam. Because things went so very quickly the last round, I expected he'd hear from them within a day or two, but that didn't happen. Sam was much calmer about it all than I was. "What's taking so long?" I kept asking. As much as I am a person who prefers open-ended options and leaving all paths open for opportunity, this is one instance in life that I'd prefer to have things closed, settled and know what's going to happen.

It was additionally painful for me because we weren't saying a word about any of this to anyone. After the last happenings with this organization, who wants to be the one to say that we're moving and then have to take it back... again? I am not a good secret keeper though, particularly when it involves potentially life-changing events. Every time I'd start to talk to someone who'd bring up some happening taking place over the next couple of months, it took everything in me to not say, "Yes, but I/we probably won't be here." I restrained myself though. It's not really my news to share until it's actually official anyway, so the days and weeks of waiting felt endless.

End...less (I really am an impatient toddler sometimes).

For the love of God. Someone say something so I can know one way or the other what is happening.

What felt like an eternity eventually turned into conversations via various forms of communication. There was much discussion back and forth, but ultimately, an actual offer was extended and accepted. Which means that, yet again, the E.V.L. household appears to be on a move to the northern part of our home state.

I'm actually excited. And sad. And - well, lots of emotions are running rampant.

*Image found here

During the last round of this, I had a lot of sick feelings about leaving our home in Colorado. We've been here for almost exactly 11 years now, and we've both done a lot of growing in many facets of life during our time here. I truly believed that the home we are in would be our forever home and we would change and expand as needed. We've had a multitude of experiences that would never have taken place (my return to college, for instance) had we remained where we were. We were married in Colorado. We adopted and lost beloved pets during our time in Colorado. We have also both come to realize that had we never left California, we would likely never have become the people we are today. Bicycles (other than a rare mountain bike ride for Sam) were not even in our consciousness, and I don't know that they ever would have been, particularly for me. Colorado and the people we've met here have done us a lot of good, and we don't take that for granted in the least.

The wonderful part about moving is that we are always able to return, even if just for visits. Part of Sam's family remains in the northern portion of the state, and we have friends in the area, so we know that our departure is not a forever goodbye by any means. We get the opportunity to be closer to aging parents with a move to California, and even if we don't always get along with each of them, it's nice to know that they're close by. As with the last round of this, we know that neither of us could ask to be in a more appropriate or seemingly perfect location for a techie and an artist - and hey, the cycling isn't so bad either.

We are both much calmer with this round, causing us both to believe that timing is everything and that when something really is meant to be, it's difficult to stop it from happening. We are both ready, willing participants in this new adventure, and while there is still a small bit of time before this all takes place, we are excited to see what is in store for us on this new journey. It's always a bit scary to try something new or different, but we know that we are ready to take on new challenges and have a fresh start. So, as we prepare to say farewell to Colorado, we go knowing that our hearts are open to what is ahead because life truly is what we make of it.