Surprises have popped up at my farm house. Choices and decisions, ideas and plans have to be changed. Yet, slow progress is still progress.
Some friends stopped by today. I gave them the tour, told them our plans. In the living room, my friend tried the keys of the old Werlein piano. Doesn’t sound that badly, considering it hasn’t been played or tuned in decades.
They had nothing negative to say, even though I sensed they were making a list of everything that still needs doing.
“I know there’s so much work to do,” I said.
“Yes, but it’s going to be great when it’s finished. You’re going to enjoy living out here.”
I appreciated their being positive. Some have not been.
“A big ol’ smile appears on my face when I turn off the highway and head down this road,” I explained. “The sky is bluer, the clouds whiter. Butterflies flutter ahead of my car, leading the way to the house.”
“You’ll enjoy that porch in summertime. You can sit out there at night and listen to the whippoorwills and hoot owls.”
My friends left and I climbed back up the ladder. I ripped out old ceiling tiles today and at least a million staples. Decided where my antique pie safe will go and that the light fixture from the parlor will be spruced up and moved to illuminate future family dinners.
Slow progress is still progress.
Blessings from the Exile’s Kitchen.