The space between

A final floor…

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Awaiting sanding, staining.

A working heat source…

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Can you see the chimney pipe peeking around the corner?

All windows made and in…

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A shop… I picked up a lovely flower arrangement in a yogurt cup there for 10 cents – how convenient…

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An unanticipated trench to correct for what we didn’t know we didn’t know on one of the conduits…

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Knitty things…

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A cupola cap, begun (with very big thanks to friends from the Maine Coast Craft School)…

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There will be more cedar shingles to finish her, and triangle glass.  There may or may not be an upside down glass mixing bowl topper.

Final harvests, gardens expanding, garlic in ground…

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Some battles…

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Some harmony…

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Some final walls…

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Some of this…

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Some of that…

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As more “must do before move in” items are checked off, as little faces peek out from third floor windows, as the interior of the wooden yurt starts looking less like a construction site and more like a livable space… I feel the teeter of being about to take the next step/jump.  During a packed fabric yurt dinner, full of when-we’re-in-the-wooden-yurt talk, a friend waved his hand around that tiny space and offered the reminder:  This has been pretty special too.

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It has.  I keep trying to reground myself in that, even with the pull into the wooden yurt.  This tiny space that took in my tiny children and watched them grow until Aria’s most recent line surpasses Caden’s first.

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From this…

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To this…

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In some ways it seems the fabric yurt is ready to be done.  This year’s cold weather ground heaving is resulting in a door not ever fully closing.  The lovely pottery wash basin bowl that we’ve used every morning and evening, given as a move-in gift four years ago, suddenly exploded in a shower of shards, hot water pot dropped on it. The dowel holding the “bathroom” door curtain snapped.  Children have reached maximum capacity in the beds made for them, made to fit this circle.  The end of our time in this wee space seems palpable.

And so I try to stay fully aware of each moment, when children draw their life-sized gameboards on that floor, for maybe the last time, and one must be careful not to fall into the “pit” and remember to walk carefully along the “toe line.”  Of the many moments when it is so wonderful to be right together, hearing the others talk in their sleep, seeing the project/play each is taking up, always being tightly together, in both wonderful and challenging ways.  To see the moonlight shining through the dome.  To be huddled in the small space in front of the fire in the mornings, doing some version of yoga over and around blanket wrapped roly-poly bodies.  Then to flip my calendar to November to see…

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It’s a small move.  It has been joked, more than once, that we could spread out between these two yurts and quickly make the move fire-line style.

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There are just a few more big yurt logistics keeping us still settled firmly in this familiar, namely finishing the walls and then sanding and staining of those first level walls and floor.  The pull is there, keeping the momentum.  But there is so much good in this teeter time of almost out / almost in, joy in the right here, right now, the space between…

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One thought on “The space between

  1. Oh wow – I think when I saw the photo of all the boots and shoes at the doorway of the new place – it did me in … ! Beautifully written, and the photos are lovely. Almost out/almost in – the space between… enjoying every moment. Much love, alison and rob

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