There is a lot more to moving, than packing and unpacking more boxes, than “the law should allow”.  There is the physical cleaning and scrubbing and then finding places for necessities and beloved items. . .like a purse that belonged your grandmother and books  . . . and a small vase your nephew made for you decades ago.  There is that sort of work . . and then there is the business. 

We are still waiting on internet service, which disturbs local places that need to send an email confirming every other thing.  Thankfully, my friendly landlord left the lights on but I have yet to order the natural gas, for heating and cooking.  We have been using a crock pot and an electric skillet, thus far.  We needed a sofa.  The previous ones were in awful shape, and when one lost a leg, that was my breaking point.  So I ordered a sofa.  It sounds so simple.  What happened was I ended up with the wrong sofa! 

What an expensive mistake-and so untimely.  The company was anxious to make amends, but what a tricky situation -if there is no email to receive mailing labels.  I found a neighbor that took the emails for me and even attached the labels , for of course, I wasn’t home. I had left for a weekend with Brant, Ryan and Sydney.  I had not seen Ryan since his birthday party in September, when all seemed right in my world.  The cursed sofa delayed my trip and so I arrived on Saturday. 

On Sunday, I woke to a full blown case of poison oak.  Sydney and Brant had creams, but by Monday, my face and neck had swollen and I was feeling sick.  I went back to bed but Sydney made me an appointment at the local urgent care.  She was determined and so I went.  Miraculously, my blood pressure was perfect, but it was a bad case of poison oak and so I was prescribed oral medication and all sorts of ointments.  The doctor asked how and when I encountered the hateful vine.  I told her that I had worked in an uncivilized hedge row on Wednesday-but I had also climbed a tree that week.  I was rescuing that old tree , but  I assured the doctor, that I was concluding that mission. 

By the next morning, I was feeling better. I called Christian to find out the sofa was still on the porch . . .

In the midst of all this moving, The gray cat, Christopher Robin, decided to tale a holiday.  He slipped out of the door one evening and disappeared!  That was an awful time.  We looked for that cat every day.  He had only been at the little house a few days and I doubted he knew the way home. I met several neighbors  while out looking and discovered the house I live in, is called the “Plum House”.  I suppose the family that built the place may have been the Plum family . .or was the name given because of the unusual color?  Either is likely.  Eventually, Christopher Robin came back.  He ate three bowls of food and went to sleep! 

Now, none of these events -the sofa, moving to a small town, the missing cat and a bad case of poison oak are fatal, but I declare, it has been a hectic time.  I also  had to get another computer, because no one could fix the old one.  For now, I can only write where there is internet service, hence these posts are scribed from Brant and Sydneys’ home-before Ryan awakes. 

“When the creek rises”, we must seek higher ground and that is what I have done. 

I watched the moon shine on the quiet streets and felt greatly relieved that at least, the moon was steadfast. The air finally changed and at long last, a few of the leaves started to fade into hues of red and yellow.  Autumns’ late arrival sparked a familiar joy.    My world has  been full of change, but dependably, the love of my family has remained.    There is a small stand of whispering pines that lull away the cares of the day, with just a slight breeze, stirring. Mornings are full of the singing of all sorts of birds.  They are nearly as shy as country birds and so I suspect, I will hang a few bird feeders. . . .and the cat came home.   

“Higher ground” is really a holy place and full of sacred opportunities. I am  not denying that it does not come with some kind of toll, for we must journey uphill, after all just to get there and I confess, that I fell down more than once . . . but the rising creek  seemed smaller and smaller, when I was able to stand. 

Now, I do not know when, I will be able to write again.  Maybe it really will be on November eleventh, as I have been told.   . .but until further notice, know you have all been missed . . and I send best wishes for beautiful days to  all.