Bends in the River
I’d somehow gotten it into my head, after all the sitting I’ve endured this year, that I’d reached the point where I could be at peace with stillness. As it turns out, I very much have NOT.
Our little bout of Covid turned into two solid weeks of illness for me. Thankfully Eric and Remi were back to full health much more quickly than that, but I think my body was just tired. IS just tired. It couldn’t fight so I just went limp and sad.
Many hot baths were taken. Many little sleeps snuck in while Remi napped. I tried to rest my mind, but that was futile - thoughts raced and raced until I was sure I’d go crazy. When you’re me, the best part about getting better is not actually feeling better. No, it’s being able to put all that swirling madness into action.
My energy returned just in the nick of time - because we were almost out of time to finish our big home-improvement project of the year. But let me back up a minute to give you a tiny bit of context.
In February, we woke up one morning at 5am to the sound of…silence. The power was out. This may not have been that big of a deal except that Remi was 2 months old. And it was -20 degrees outside. Frost was climbing the windows and we could feel the heat being pulled out onto the prairie. With no estimates for when the power would be restored (aka, when our heat would be back on), we turned off the water main and Eric, Remi, the dogs, and I piled into our 2 wheel drive car and drove into town. It was dark and snowy and felt DANGEROUS on so many levels.
So, that day, I decided two things. The first was that we needed a vehicle that could get EVERYONE out in an emergency. All the humans, the cats and dogs, and the horses (in the trailer, of course). Our dear, beloved, access cab truck (aka the vehicle equipped to handle snow, but with no room for all of us) had to go. That trade was easy and happened quickly. I’m still a little sad about it, though - I sure loved that truck.
The second thing decided, though, was that we needed a wood stove. When the power goes out again (because it will), we need a heat source that’s not tied to the grid.
Anyhow, to bring this all back together, a wood stove required a tile hearth as well as tile on the wall behind its new home in our living room. I ordered tile in April, it arrived in July - at which point I spent rather a long time laying out the proposed pattern on the floor. After our trip, I was thinking we’d have plenty of time to install - but then, as you know, sickness.
So the minute my ten days of quarantine were up, my Dad came to show me the ropes. I, of course, picked a handmade tile for this, my first real tile project. Every piece was slightly different in size and most of the spacing had to be done by eye. It was really challenging but, true to the way I operate, this meant I loved it. Every spare minute last week was spent buttering and placing tile.
Two rows from the top, on what I hoped would be my last day, misfortune struck again. I tried to stop Ponderosa from jumping off our porch (she’s been nursing a sore foreleg all summer) - and missed. My outstretched fingers jabbed right into a stair and I knew immediately that my ring finger had broken. Eric and my parents finished the top of the wall - this weekend, we’ll finally grout it, just in time for the stove to arrive. I promise to use my left, uninjured hand.
I’m meeting with a specialist next week, just to make sure there won’t be lasting damage to my finger, but it’s looking like there’s more rest on the calendar for me. This is hard. I’ve got so many things I’d like to be making.
I’m trying to tell myself that life is like a river and you can’t always see what’s up around the next bend - meaning that I must bend, too, when things don’t go to plan. Easier said than done, but it appears that I’ll just have to keep practicing!
