Hazy Shade of Winter

I think all little kids love winter. When I was a kid I used to get really excited about putting on all of my snow gear and venturing out into the wonderland that awaited in my yard. Building snow forts with my sisters and dragging sleds around with my friends was super fun, but I think my greatest joy came from the times that I sat alone watching a quiet snowfall. There is a large rock that sits near the end of my parents’ driveway. In the summer it is the centerpiece of a lovely flower bed. In the winter it becomes the perfect spot to sit and watch the twinkling of snowflakes that are reflecting moonlight. I probably spent hours as a child sitting on that rock, lost in my own imaginative thoughts while admiring the beauty of a winter landscape. Still to this day, everytime I see the shimmer of snowflakes under the moonlight I smile and think of sitting on that rock.

We had a very long winter last year, it was one of the coldest and snowiest winters on record. For a long time it felt like we would perpetually be in a state of deep freeze. As the current winter season began several months ago, I couldn’t help but feel a little gun shy. I don’t think I would have handled another brutal winter without breaking a small piece of my sanity. Fortunately, we were spared from having to endure double digit negative temperatures for weeks on end. Instead, the frigid days were more sporadic; this is Minnesota after all, our frozen tundra is either excessively cold or extraordinarily cold all winter. But then, before you know it, the calendar will say that we’ve reached a turning point in our trip around the sun. The first day of spring is a welcome thought, even though the equinox rarely ever means the coming of spring-like weather here. In March and April we kind of get stuck in this meteorological game of tag between winter and spring. The weather will tease us, much like it did this past weekend. After watching the mercury dive well below zero, we rebounded and hit a delightful 40 degrees. But just as quickly as we achieve that perfect calefaction, the temperature once again will plummet to below the point of freezing. My life as of late seems to be mimicking typical weather patterns for this time of year. We’re in the midst of a huge project. Maybe it would be better classified as an undertaking. However you choose to look at it, the end result will be a major achievement. When we finally complete the renovation project on our old farmhouse we’ll be one big step closer to living debt free and more importantly, a far more self-sufficient life. But as much as that goal keeps us focused on our desired outcome, the path we’re following to get there has been a twisty one. I’ve felt sort of in a haze as I navigate the monstrous task of flipping our life around. I’ve been trying somewhat unsuccessfully for the last two years to reduce our belongings into a consolidated stock of well loved and purpose driven items. I think I can pretty much claim the title now of professional household sorter. Our farmhouse is smaller in overall square footage than our old house, so we simply don’t have the space for the same things we’ve made use of in the past. But, alas, having four opinionated children makes downsizing a bit difficult. A year ago we forced ourselves to jump headfirst into that problem when we decided moving into a camper trailer would be a wise decision. After a couple of months spent sorting things into short term storage, long term storage, donation, and everyday essential use, we were ready to leave. I don’t think most people would willingly wave goodbye to a perfectly functioning home in favor of life in an RV. But, we actually loved it even though it came with its own challenges. We hit the road for six weeks and tasted a bit of a decade old dream life before returning home to start renovations in earnest. We experienced all sorts of interesting obstacles. There were many broken parts on the RV, moisture problems, empty propane tanks, a few false gas alarms, hours spent every week filling the fresh water tank and draining the black and gray ones, and the commotion of six people living in a 27 foot long tin box. Not to mention the meddling curiosity of little people who didn’t understand the difference between short term storage, long term storage, and donation piles. Sigh, even my love of reading The Box Car Children as a kid wasn’t enough for me to figure out how to make the best of it, I found myself growing weary of our temporary life and constantly shifting storage mess. We made progress on our renovation project. But just barely. Our cash flow restricted the conclusion of some projects, while our main obligations held up the start of others. And then winter reared its fearsome head forcing us into making a decision. We could move into the house in its unfinished state, or we could take the RV and head south. The former option had obvious setbacks, but the latter would significantly impact our progress. We chose to stay. And then we experienced all new interesting obstacles. From figuring out how to cook exclusively using our woodstove, to having a camp style kitchen that moved locations as we continued renovation work, no doors to close for a quiet workspace, and an occasional frozen waterline; we pushed through each new test of our patience knowing that even slow progress is progress. And my little people continued to make even larger messes with my (previously) carefully sorted storage. Now, I realize there are people facing far more difficult challenges everyday than what I’ve been experiencing, but these personal tribulations have at times given me pause and made me grateful for my ability to adapt and be flexible. Through all of this I kept reminding myself of what we’d said when we started a year ago: we are resilient. We’re able to make these drastic life changes because we have a plan, we have an achievable goal, and we’re resilient enough to make it through to the end.

Resilience is one of the earliest learned traits. It’s like a built-in safety harness. We begin weaving it together from a young age and it’s always there. I think the hard part for most people is just remembering to use it. I have this memory of being outside playing as a child. I was daydreaming when the snowplow came clattering down the street and violently sprayed heavy snow a few feet from where I sat on the rock. It startled me and I ran inside where my mom put fresh socks on me and made hot cocoa. A few days later after a storm left us with several inches of fresh snow, my mom helped me into my snow gear and told me to go have fun outside. I remember being nervous at first, but then I told myself that the snowplow hadn’t been as scary as I thought. Even if it came by again, I would be several feet clear of its reach sitting on the rock. I really wanted to go back out to my favorite spot even though it had been frightening the last time . So I took my perch and began daydreaming. I sat there until the sky darkened and my dad came home from work, and then I remained until my mom insisted I come inside for dinner. I had to stretch myself to go back out that day. I had to be resilient enough to just act, and the result was the creation of a beautiful memory. The moon was shining brightly that night and the snowflakes shimmered all around me like a million tiny diamonds. My place on that rock would remain a cherished experience.