Lost along the way.

Here it is, the day before the realtor comes to take new photos of the completed work on our house. It has been a blur of a year so far, with washing, sanding, patching, and painting being the default activities between family and occasional substitute teaching. As I move in that armsore-and-underslept-but-determined-and-industrious way from room to room, from backyard to garage, beautifying, organizing, "putting right what once went wrong..." I cross paths with old friends: - The K'nex tower I had Molly build me based upon my design specifications for homemade sprouting shelves. - The small modified ice-cream pail that is home to half of my clew of red wiggler vermicomposting worms perched atop the very large Rubbermaid bin that houses the other half. - Bags and trays of materials for constructing homemade musical instruments. - Several years' worth of seeds (purchased, begged, harvested in the field, and saved from previous crops) that await news of a change in residence (and garden access) before I can start any of them. - Books on terrariums, greenhouses, prairie xeriscaping, and after-dinner gardening. - Stacks of restaurant-size ice cream pails rescued for self-watering planters. - Pots of outdoor plants brought indoors for the harrowing race between the arrival of spring and the annual infestation of white flies and aphids. - Jars of lovingly rinsed, dried, and ground eggshells awaiting warm soil. - Thirty-some rejected water cooler jugs saved for any number of projects from classroom music to plastic domes for garden plants. - The energy monitor that requires some tech support to become truly functional in the way I'd like it be. - The rain barrel that broke its homemade stand last summer and has since languised at ground level, where its water is virtually inaccessible. - Stashes of unwashed bags that have become too dauntingly numerous to attack until a warm and sunny clothesline is available. This time of year is difficult on its own, but layer on house renovations, and getting to any of the worthwhile projects I have sharing my physical and mental space feels impossible. I'm hoping this acknowledgement of all that there is to say will obligate me to return here to comment at length when the "home staging" is accomplished and I make time to look toward the spring and its unending possibilities. - James