I’m finally in my new place. Not settled, since there’s still so much to unpack and have set up, but I’m here and all my stuff is here, too. Too much stuff, but it’s all mine and in the same general vicinity of me. I can sort through it at my leisure and begin the process of “dump, donate, sell”. First things first: rest up and begin serious healing as I drop the last vestiges of the stresses from these past few years. I’ve been hankering for a simpler life for as long as I can remember. A life centered around the home, nature, wildcrafting and growing herbs and a garden that produces most of my food – easy enough as a plant muncher, since I won’t need to allot any space to animals other than my dog. Hobbit’s away at a friend’s house while we tend to fixing the fence here, but it’s crazy lonely without him. I can’t imagine not having a dog for company, no matter how much I may fantasize a life with no companion animals at all. Walks aren’t as much fun without a dog and hikes even less so.
Tonight, I’m making pea soup. I love pea soup! I figured I’d try out the new pressure cooker. I still have my old one, but it no longer is useful as a pressure cooker since the lock thingie got sacrificed to the gas stove gods. Melted it clear off while we were trying to figure out how best to use a gas stove. It had been awhile since any of us had used one. The new place has a gas stove, too! Lucky for us, we already are used to it, though Adraic checked the new pot to make sure it didn’t have any exposed, meltable parts.
I kept trying to keep the stove clean while the split peas morph into proper pea soup, but alas, it’s a lost cause. I’m surprised there’s any water left in with the peas, so much of it seems to have made its way outside the pot. But sure enough, when I let the pot cool down and open the lid, it looks like hardly any water’s boiled out at all. I guess it’s just marking territory or something. “Mweh-HEH! This stove is MY turf, ya see? Don’t you rice or lentils go gettin’ any ideas!” But, that’s peas for you. At least I can add the carrots and potatoes for some seriously yummy soup later once they’ve turned to mush. Or perhaps just before. Potato chunks can take their own sweet time cooking thoroughly, not that carrot suns* are all that speedy, either.
One thing I’m happily getting used to is the quiet. It’s incredibly quiet here! I hadn’t realized just how grating the noise of the city could be until I left it. I’ve slept better here than I have in years. I am a little surprised that I miss town, but I’m okay with that. Here is where I am at the moment, where God has chosen to put me for the time being. I’ve only been here for a few days; I grew up in cities and suburbs. No matter how much I love the country, cities will always feel familiar. That and they’re incredibly convenient places to live. But I really don’t mind the inconvenience of the hills. It’s beautiful and rejuvenating and comforting in ways town life could never be. Silence wraps, envelops and permeates everything and presses against my skin even when I’m indoors. Here is where I truly begin to live.
*carrot suns – what I call carrots sliced crosswise, either full rounds or halves; they look like tiny little suns. My kids thought this was the coolest thing when they were little. They also liked finding the star in the center of their apple and the funny faces the lights on cars make.