wintumn

We got short-changed on autumn.  Starting the first week of November, there was rain with high winds (I was surprised to see the tiny house windows covered in grit—it was ocean salt).  There were widespread power outages.  Then came ridiculously cold wind chill temperatures (this evening the wind chill is -20C/-4F).  And there’s been snow on the ground for the past week.  I’ve already shoveled twice.  I thought I had the winter tires put on the little car early but it turned out to be just-in-time.  Every day when I look online at the weather forecast, there seems to be a new statement or warning.  And the winter solstice isn’t for another four weeks!

I did not feel like celebrating the day I pulled the long underwear and flannel PJs from the out-of-season bin and I started wearing my big stomp-around winter boots again.  I’ve remembered most of my woodstove lessons from last year except for one evening when I started a fire too late in the evening, overheated the tiny house, and then had to leave the loft windows open so I could sleep.

It seems like spring, summer, and autumn were no more than two months each, leaving the remaining six months for winter.

At 5PM the day before I left on my road trip in October, I was doing dishes in the farmhouse kitchen and noticed water on the floor.  I was feeling happy with all I’d accomplished that day in preparation for the trip and excitement had finally replaced worry.  I figured I had spilled water when rinsing a dish but then I saw it was a substantial amount.  Instinctively, I slowly looked up at the ceiling above me.  Nothing.  I opened up the cabinet doors under the sink.

In the spring, the plumber replaced all of the intake pipes in the farmhouse but the old outtake pipes remained.  And now, the evening before I was to leave for 10 days, both outtakes of the double sink had become unattached.  Any water going down the sink drain was ending up in the cabinet and dripping on to the floor.  My initial thought was I’m driving away tomorrow morning and I’m not coming back here.  After some deep breathing, I called the plumber—arranging for him to fix the issue while I was away.

And I did return to MBR.  I’ve got work to do here this winter: a new writing project.

In September, I was encouraged and motivated by attending a fiction-writing workshop.  Afterwards, I had an idea for a larger project (separate from back is the new forward) that I plan to work on November to April.  At this point, I call it creative non-fiction.  I don’t know yet whether it is a book just for me, something I will self-publish, or something I will try to get professionally published.  Let’s see.  This project seems like a good focus (or distraction) for me during the dark and cold of the next six months.

References and related links:

• MBR: Minas Basin Retreat, the property where I am living in my tiny house. The Minas Basin is an inlet of the Bay of Fundy (with the world’s highest tides).
• just a four-province drive (post #104)