Meeting the neighbors
Posted on | February 5, 2006 | 22 Comments
We went to the house around noon today, with plans to walk the boundaries of our property—and discovered an entire field that is ours, that we didn’t know about. It is an old meadow, grown tall with hickory and crab apple saplings.
The week has been warm, as though a chinook wind were blowing from the east, already bringing spring. Almost all the snow has melted, and the mud is thick along the road approaching our house. Only on the shadiest slopes of the hill snow still lingers in white patches like an Andrew Wyeth painting. Shelf fungus and moss grows thickly on the fallen branches—ripped from trunks in the ice storm last October.
Already I am itching to keep field notes in a new moleskine where I can press beech leaves and wild grasses into the pages, or sketch the deer tracks and raccoon turds I found today along one of the old stone walls that skirt the property. Today I brought my camera and clambered up the quartz and granite boulders at the back edge of the woods, and then down to the splashing creek. It sounded deeper than it is—the ground is so satturated from recent rains, the water echoes off it like a drum.
The stream meanders down a channel of mud and rocks towards the road and the neighbor’s land. We walk there next to say hello—something both of us are kind of hesitant to do. But, as is generally the case, those first encounters are more awkward in our heads than they are in person and when we knock at the neighbor’s door they both answer, soot on their hands.
“Come on in,” she says, without asking us who we are or why we’re there.
So there we are, crossing over the threshold into their snug living room, and mumbling about how we just bought the house on the hill.
He is cleaning their wood burning stove, but stops, brushes off his hands, and shakes ours. He has big limpid blue eyes, graying hair, and a dark smudge over one shaggy eyebrow.
As I say the words, “the house on the hill,” her eyes immediately tear up. I ask, “Did you know the woman who lived there?”
“I was with her when she died,” she says. “We were very close. She was the nicest lady in the world.” Then she tells us about the flowers she’s planted in our yard that will surprise us in the spring—and all about our other neighbors.
He stands there grinning, adding tidbits to the story. Egging her on when she leaves the juicy details out. “You’ve got to know about Crazy Bob,” he says. And also about kooky Kay, whose husband died years ago and her floor hasn’t been cleaned since, or so the story goes.
But they also tell us about our immediate neighbors—a doctor, a mechanic, a vet—who throw a sugaring off party each spring and go cross country skiing together, and who’ve known each other for years.
We can’t help but feel young—most of our neighbors have kids our age. But they put us at ease—extending an invitation already to the sugaring party, where, they promise, we’ll meet everyone. Before we leave she promises to help me with my garden in the spring, then blows Bean kisses in the drive as we walk back to our house.
Inside, the house is warm. The air is dusty, the floors stripped down to the plywood. DH has been going over after work, ripping down walls and reframing, and already the difference is huge. Like any renovation project things are unexpected: the set of oak stairs masked beneath hideous carpet—but also the furnace so old it will need replacing before next winter. We stand together—the three of us—eating hot pastrami sandwiches and planning out where walls will go. Bean takes bites of the bread with his new teeth and squirms in my arms. Soon we will be able to come here and let him run around on the grass. Soon, this will be home.
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22 Responses to “Meeting the neighbors”
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I am Christina Rosalie
Hello. I'm so happy you've stopped by!
I am a multimedia storyteller, digital strategist, idea starter, stalker of wonder, finder of four leaf clovers, MFA graduate student, and mama of boys. My first book,
will be published by SKIRT! Books in September, 2012.
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February 5th, 2006 @ 1:52 am
This post made me ache. It sounds so amazing, the land, the people framing it, the garden that will bring hidden treasures. Bean growing up here sounds so perfect. You make me want this life.
And oh yeah, I’m coming to visit as soon as I can get the funds!
February 5th, 2006 @ 1:53 am
How nice to just “discover” a field! and so glad to hear that the meeting with the kindly neighbors went so well. your description of the land and the neighbors brings to mind a passage from something by Laura Ingalls Wilder (the sugaring), or Lucy Maud Montgomery. Life lived at a slower pace…
February 5th, 2006 @ 7:04 am
Oh wow, Christina. You’re living my Laura Ingalls Wilder dream! This sounds like such an amazing piece of land to own. I’ll be over to visit just as soon as I’ve fixed my bonnet
February 5th, 2006 @ 7:28 am
The back of my head just went chills all over and then down my spine. You’re going to be so happy there, I just know it.
February 5th, 2006 @ 9:02 am
YAY Elaine is coming to visit!!!
(and sorry folks, no bonnets shall be worn.)
February 5th, 2006 @ 9:56 am
What a lovely rendition of your day. Your writing and photos inspire me daily to pay more attention to my own life.
It’s sounds like you already know how wonderful it is to have a husband with talent for carpentry and building. I love my husband, but it makes me crazy that even the smallest home repairs take at least three long trips to the hardware store.
February 5th, 2006 @ 11:43 am
It is so fun to read about you exploring your new place… your neighbors just tickled me – a sugaring party! And a Crazy Bob! How fun!
I grew up on land with old rock walls that were more like piles of stones by the time I met them; they used to surround strawberry patches!
February 5th, 2006 @ 1:13 pm
ohh this is all so deep and lovely and powerful and magical and sweet and YES– get that journal going to capture as much as you can of this time. It is a precious, precious time.
February 5th, 2006 @ 2:53 pm
Nice place, good luck with it all!
February 5th, 2006 @ 3:03 pm
I find that if I stare long enough at the pictures, it feels like I’m really there.
February 5th, 2006 @ 4:03 pm
How magical, to find a meadow you didn’t know you owned – I have had dreams like that, but your’s is a reality…What a wonder-filled new life you’re building!
When it happens, please show pictures of the sugaring party at the little house in the big woods (I’m another Laura Ingalls Wilder fan!)
And your new community’s reminding me a bit, of another favorite, Lake Woebegone (only without the lutefisk!)
February 5th, 2006 @ 5:11 pm
Your writing is as easy to read as thinking these thoughts myself might be had I seen the things you describe … You are the “me” in your family I guess. It sounds odd I know, but your world feels eerily familiar.
February 5th, 2006 @ 5:11 pm
What a beautiful and evocative story. I love that your neighbors have a sugaring party and about your land. We found oak stairs and wonderful old pine floors in our house under the old, dirty carpet. It will be wonderful to see the garden this spring, I hope you’ll share photos with us!
February 5th, 2006 @ 10:41 pm
You have a creek of your own to visit! And a field – or as we say around here, a pasture! I love all of this, all of it, especially to know that you’ll be a part of a community that sounds kind and caring. And who, upon meeting the Bean, wouldn’t blow him kisses? You’d have to be crazy not to.
February 5th, 2006 @ 10:42 pm
What a fantastic post! Your pictures and especially your words make this special place come alive. What a wonderful place for you and your family. Best wishes for peace and happiness here.
February 6th, 2006 @ 12:38 am
I’m absolutely devouring your posts about the property, enjoying the aches it gives me (in some sick way) for what I really want someday: a little house in the wilderness, little farm on the side. I sit here thinking, How many horses could I fit onto that property? But I also smile to see that Bean has such a wonderful foundation.
February 6th, 2006 @ 9:57 am
I must echo what others have said about the ache to be placed in those pictures of your property.
I grew up in Oregon and now live in Illinois and I often crave a mountain view and a crystal clear spring to sit by (most of them here are brown and murky). And yet, Illinois has it’s beauty.
February 6th, 2006 @ 11:57 am
wow, it is amazing to be witness to your dreams coming to fruition… sounds like a wonderful neighborhood!
February 6th, 2006 @ 11:48 pm
I want to come visit, too. Or live with you. We can draw pictures together. And I’ll do freeform dance while you write poetry.
February 7th, 2006 @ 2:01 am
Wow. A meadow that you didn’t realize was yours. Neighbors who seem just fantastic. Beautiful pictures of your new home. Thank you for sharing all of this so we can be a part of your new adventures.
February 8th, 2006 @ 10:30 pm
Your posts take my breath away. I love this.
February 18th, 2006 @ 3:16 pm
So very, very happy for you. What a beautiful life you’re creating for yourself…