I have heat.
The ancient systems in the basement that look like parts of a locomotive are functioning now and the thermostat clings steadfastly to the lathe in the deconstructed kitchen. For some reason the oil that fires this system makes me think of the river that flows outside.
I had a discovery with the river. It began as a damp day excursion to explore more precisely where my property line falls on the north side. With Winter naturally cutting growth and creating easier access I walked back behind the barn to where I knew the orange tape would wave at me in the distance. Across numerous piles of carpet, tires, car seats, concrete and general trash I arrived at something that made me gasp a little then giggle. Pinching myself I saw the river gently flowing and wrapping its way around the whole back side of my property. Where I thought I had a modest 500ft of river frontage running on the west side, I actually have a complete left arm hug of waterway. I am immediately transported to a childhood memory.
We had a family friend who I called Auntie Marion. She had the kind of house that was always warm, messy, full of food and books. At the bottom of her garden she had a swing. Simple wooden plank rope swing in a small clearing of a thick of trees. In that clearing I created an imaginary fairy grotto. Hours were spent talking to these creatures, adventures were planned, dangerous, naughty plans were built upon the soft ground, leaves kicking up, legs a swinging. And here I am again, in a place that conjures this.
Now to pick the tree for the swing….