It’s very nearly mid-May and despite an early start to spring, the recent spate of cold weather slowed the march towards the full glory of my forest. At this point, it’s only about 60% filled in. It needs to get to 80% before the hillside behind the house turns to a complete sea of green. Honestly? I love it when you literally can’t see the trees through the forest. It has this very unique way of enclosing our outdoor space so it feels private and cozy while also feeling expansive and wild. I know, that probably only makes sense to me, but there you go. Still, give the backyard a week and my forest should be filled in.
I have had the sense lately of time slipping by without my full appreciation of our lives or what we’ve built. In some ways, I feel like I’m waiting for the forest to fill in so I can calm down, take a deep breath and realize that it’s okay to just let go a little bit.
Today? Despite steady rain, a forest that’s only 60% green, and a general sense of not being quite settled, my aim is to take that deep breath and truly appreciate our lives.
I’m a big reader of the NY Times home section and I’m an avid fan of those home improvement shows, though they’ve lost a little appeal after all of our renovations. In my fiction reading, I love those women-oriented books whereby the woman throws away a somewhat unfulfilling executive career to rediscover her roots and – you guessed it – the Hallmark Christmas movies are my own particular guilty pleasure. Notice a theme here? I love the idealized version of reality and it’s one I deliberately sought to create. I am the woman from the Hallmark movie after the show ends. I covet the perfectly remodeled home and the perfectly recentered life. In a way, that’s what I’m always striving for.
Still, there comes this point when you realize that the effort of the journey is the distraction preventing you from appreciating the now. Just like 60% of the forest is still a beautiful green with incredible depth and interest, so is a nearly perfect existence. Time to stop moving forward and just be.
The thought of that is actually quite heady to me. Today is one of my home-focused days. I have a one-hour call this afternoon and that’s it. Outside of that, my goal is to clean our house – which truly doesn’t get all that dirty – and make a traditional pot roast meal. My other goal for today? Truly let go and soak up what is.
We painstakingly built this life from taking chances with our careers to both funding contractors and doing the renovations ourselves. Even our pet adoptions were a slow and steady process as it can be difficult to integrate cats. Each cat probably took about three months to get healthy, get safely introduced to his siblings and be completely comfortable at home. As we near the end of our professional careers and have largely completed renovations, it’s time to be okay with what doesn’t get done, enjoy what has been done and carve out that quiet time to appreciate life.
My goal all along was to live authentically. Even with my home improvement fixation, I’m not into the influencer side of life. Instead, I wanted a simple life that celebrated home, partnership, family, love and quiet. I particularly love the “witching hour” of around 2 p.m. when the whole world suddenly goes quiet. If it’s a sunny day, I like to spend that hour outside, listening to the birds and just enjoying the simple nature around me. On those rainy or cold days? It’s an hour I typically use to quietly and calmly prep dinner, enjoying the creative process of cooking.
Today, I want to be deliberate in practicing true appreciation. Our home will never be in “House Beautiful” but it is our own unique style and it feels like us. When we made changes, we made it with the idea that form truly does follow function. It took us six months to plan the kitchen but five years later, I wouldn’t change a thing.
I particularly love that our spaces are still a mix of my style and my husband’s style and nearly every space has that blend of “something old, something yours, something mine and something ours”. From the handmade CD rack to the framed Crescent City Classic poster from our first race post my husband’s injury, the TV room also boasts that custom-built double-ottoman couch that I spent weeks deciding on. My overstuffed distressed leather furniture from 1999 goes perfectly well in our fireplace room with the modern Swedish-style woodburning fireplace and my husband’s bourbon collection. And my 12-seater dining room table from Ikea has my leftover buffet from my old house and a remodeled church bench for some of the seating. Each and every time I host Thanksgiving, I am so grateful at how comfortable it is to sit around the table. That was the whole reason to take down two load-bearing walls and it was truly the best decision we could have made.
I also love that I built and completed a career that has a legacy of giving back. I am grateful that what I did was financially rewarding to a certain degree, but I’m also proud that my focus was always on helping others and creating access to care for our most vulnerable family members, friends and neighbors. As I near my own expiration date professionally as well as make that deliberate turn towards retirement, I can do so satisfied that I did give it my all and I gave it the best of me that I had to give.
Mostly, I love that we built this life together. From a steady, genuine love that truly respects each other and our dreams to the four furry heartbeats that call this place home alongside us. I love how funny the boys are in the morning when we all wake up and they’re so excited that they put on a show for us. I look forward to our evenings when my husband and I shut out the rest of the world, sit down and have a conversation (and perhaps a cocktail) before a from-scratch evening meal. I love our crazy garden growing habit, even if the “grow operation” becomes a little overwhelming just before it gets shut down for the season. Our life – like our garden starts – is imperfect but it’s still the best that we can make it.
Today, I get back to that quiet, elusive place called contentment. We really did do the best that we could and we really led with both our hearts and our heads. It is okay to stop wanting more and okay to not be perfect. Mostly, it feels good to honor our lives and what we have built. It’s not for everyone but it works for us.
By this time next week, my forest will be at that 80% tipping point and I will no longer be able to see beyond ten feet into the canopy. The weather will turn into 70-degree days on a regular basis. Our garden will go in and the grow operation will begin to shut down inside. We will enter that early summer stretch. My goal is that from today, my sense of warmth and appreciation only grows alongside what Mother Nature will nurture outside.
The Yuppie Homesteader 