relationship with a small house--first night

I slept in my house two nights ago for the first time. There is no kitchen and now with the discovery of a leaking sewer pipe, there is no bathroom. Fortunately (though I haven't thought so until now), I have not yet rented out the house next door, so none of this is really an issue.

I can watch the sun rise over the bridge from the window of my non working bathroom. From my bed, I view the freighters as they slowly make their way up river to the electrical plant. The tiny house is cozy and warm and she seems to welcome me whole heartedly.

She is decidedly feminine. A great nurturer tucked into a tiny little shell. Really. I come to this house feeling at sea myself, and though I am completely overwhelmed, each time I allow myself to just really be here, I know that things will be OK.

Dear friends came to offer labor and support yesterday. It is hard to work when you don't have your own tools and nothing seems to go as planned, but much was accomplished. The fence sits stacked in the yard ready for another work party next weekend. The old refrigerator has a new home in the basement and the stove has moved next door. There are new exterior lights and a few window boxes are in place.

Friends who are not painters diligently followed my instructions and primed woodwork that has never seen more than a coat of varnish in 90 years.

There is still much to be done but I am hopeful now. Winter is on the way, but I am secure in the fact that I will be tucked in and feeling at home before the holidays.