A while back I wrote about my plans to move. I put my house on the market in late spring, thinking—the current housing market being what it is (I seem to specialize in buying in a seller’s market and selling in a buyer’s market)—that it might take a year or so to sell.
But it sold almost immediately, and today is moving day. I’ll be putting most of my stuff in storage, temporarily staying with friends not too far away, and traveling around a bit while I ponder where to go next. Posting should continue relatively uninterrupted; laptops and wifi are ubiquitous enough to take care of that.
Packing up a houseful of goods makes one realize how much stuff is hidden in closets and cupboards and basements and garages. When it’s all laid out, the bulk is almost overwhelming: how could I have amassed all of this? Even after I threw about half of it out? Next time I’ll do better. Next time I’ll get rid of three-quarters of the junk. Next time…
But for now, it’s time to say goodbye. Not to friends here; I assume we’ll see each other again, although not as often as before. At least for a while, till I make a bigger move.
But to the garden. Actually, I started saying goodbye as soon as I knew the house had sold. Here’s a photo from a day or two ago:
And this is the peegee hydrangea that was about six inches tall three years ago when I planted it, and is now about as tall as I am. I love these plants, especially in the fall when the huge flowers turn pinkish/violet/brown. But this year when that happens, they’ll belong to someone else. In fact, as of tomorrow morning, they will already belong to someone else:
And, of course, goodbye to the house itself, the one I fixed up six years ago when I moved here. Here’s a photo of the living/dining room in its prime, part of a series of pinups taken for advertising when it went on the market (if you look carefully you can see some of those hydrangeas, cut and dried, near the fireplace):
It looks a tiny bit different today:
The task, of course, is to say goodbye and then look forward to what lies ahead. A cliché, but like so many clichés, true.
ON THE SALE OF MY FARM
Well-away and be it so,
To the Stranger Let them go.
Even Cheerfully I yield
Pasture or chard, mowing-field,
Yea and wish him all the gain
I required of them in vain.
Yea, and I can yield him house,
Barn, and shed, with rat and mouse
To dispute possession of.
These I can unlearn to love.
Since I cannot help it? Good!
Only be it understood,
It shall be no trespassing
If I come again some spring
In the grey disguise of years,
Seeking ache of memory here.