Our House... is a very, very, very fine house

For the past 4 years, my husband and I have lived in small, "fixer upper" houses (a.k.a. foreclosed dumps with potential). When we were first looking for these "fixer uppers" I spotted an add for a house that said, "sweat equity". I called my parents and told them about the find and exclaimed, "yeah... even the advertisement said that it had sweet equity." I now know that it has everything to do with SWEAT and nothing to do with SWEET. Tarps hanging from walls. Living in campers while we put up sheet-rock. Dust. Nails. Paint. Decisions. Bottomed-out bank accounts. Take-out and cereal for dinner each night.

BUT. Our first little house turned out to be a dandy. With amazing, brilliant, selfless and HANDY family... you can do just about anything.

And then we became a family of four overnight. And that house grew small.... fast. So... my husband and my father thought... "Hey... since this house came out so great... why don't we try to do the same thing to another house... and sell that one?" It would be a joint effort. And, since the next house might have a little bit more room... we could stay in that one for a while before we sell it. 

So that's what we did. We moved into another home. But it wasn't bigger. Garage... yes. Basement... yes. More room? 990 square feet (NO). With twin boys... that's not a whole lot of space I tell you.  

So... I've been dreaming a bit. About our next house. When you live in "transition" homes... you don't exactly feel settled. Pictures weren't hung. The basement is still full of boxes full of stuff. But this next home might just be "the one". Or, at least, the one that we are in for a while. And what do I want in this next house? 

A yard for the kids. Maybe a garden. A garage would be nice. I don't need a bunch of square footage. Just wide open spaces for company and laughter. I dream of a quiet, sunlit reading room for afternoon naps and "wine o'clocks". I like things old. With character. A location where my kids could ride their bikes to the neighbors house. A place that isn't too far away from the action of "downtown". Close to the ocean? Am I pushing it? (We could probably afford a porta-potty that we could rent and put on the beach?) 

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But bottom line... you can make a whole lot of dumps into something beautiful. 

 Time. Sweat. Family (free labor). And Love.  

  That had me thinking of our sons' home country. What would they be living in if their parents were still healthy and had enough to take care of them? Probably a little hut. One room. Maybe two. Running water? Probably not. Heat? Nope. Wood floors? Dirt. Beds? Probably not. 

photo taken by a friend in Ethiopia

Love? Absolutely. 

Vegetable Garden Co-op

 

Veggies. And more veggies.

My cousin has a friend who owns an incredible organic vegetable garden. And he has invited others to join in on a "co-op" and enjoy the harvest. I was darn lucky to get in on this. I've heard that the vegetables are splendid, and the supply is plenty. Thank you cousin!

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This is the first I've done something like this. I'm pretty excited. I may even be more excited to help in the garden for two days than I am about the fresh vegetables. Diggin' in the dirt, sweatin' in the sun, and seeing the "fruits of your labor". Ha! "Labor"... as if I can actually call it "labor". Now, the man who owns this fabulous garden... now HE can call his work labor... a labor of love. 

I have NO IDEA how hard it is to have a garden... but I'm sure it's a TON of work. My grandmother has one... and she will be the first to say that it takes time, effort and love. And lots of it. 

And this made me think of the past. How, for many of our ancestors and even much of the world now, taking the time to garden was life. Life was more simple. Less chaotic. There was more time to enjoy the meal... for it took time to grow and prepare. I think that their work wasn't "rushed" to get to an "end"... it was a journey in and of itself. And I think there is beauty in that. I'd like to be able to bring that kind of thinking and mind-set into the things that I do every day. But it's hard. Maybe those two days working in that garden will help me get on track. Maybe the dirt in-between my fingers will help me appreciate the beauty in the process.