Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 1 Comment

The Flow

The whipping winds of yesterday have come to a complete standstill. Nothing moves. I kick off bed sheets in my sleep, as we rest in the thick air of an island petri dish paused in surreal calm.

All is silent but for the faint sound of crickets in the pre-dawn dark, and the occasional rooster ricocheting calls from the tops of motionless trees.

So much can change so quickly, just look at the weather.

In my last posting, I bemoaned a broken water pump at our new abode, while watching trees bent sideways from wild gusts. Within 24 hours, I am in a new setting. Water flows from the tap. The air hangs stagnant.

With the water pump fixed yesterday, I got to do chores. Like four loads of laundry. Three piles of dishes (hot, sudsy water, all the while). I wiped away years of black film from behind the refrigerator. There was even joy in cleaning someone else’s left-behind grime. Because I could. Oh, the delight of running water!

All day I drank glassfuls of precious liquid. Some with lemon. Some with fresh mint. Some glasses, just plain, fresh water.

Now, with the winds so dramatically stilled, this morning’s pregnant pause is full of mystery.

Water still runs from the tap. I have more cleaning plans in store. But then there’s the weather. Sort of solely in charge. We are vulnerable, despite extended forecasts. I am humbled in the mystique of this stillness.

courtesy of Evan Blaser
courtesy of Evan Blaser
Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Look to a Tree

We’ve been without running water since Friday. The pump malfunctioned, a part needed to be ordered over the weekend, and we’re hoping that today the troubleshooting is correct and water will be flowing through the pipes of our dream home soon.

There is something to be said about learning the intimate, inner workings of the place where you dwell. It’s good to know the source of your water, where the septic system is buried, where the gray water drains from your washer.

Moving into this house, we were clear that it was a fundamental in building a foundation for our lives. Thus, we are being schooled on the cornerstones of operation of our sweet abode.

Funny, a girlfriend and I were talking about the complexities of modern life, and I commented that many days I wouldn’t mind the simplicity of chopping wood and carrying water. Well, within a day, I found myself schlepping a five-gallon bucket to the house, grateful for the precious liquid with which I could wash our dishes. Careful what you wish for.

Ironically, the island where we abide has been drenched with rainfall, a flash flood in effect, and puddles aplenty. Water, water everywhere, but nary a drop to drink (no worries, we have a secondary source that’s been keeping us abundantly supplied. The only catch is that we need to transport it).

I wish I could say I’ve been graceful through this inconvenience of no running water. But there have been waves of irritation that have forced me to see a less-than-ideal side of myself. I’ve lived in my car, camped in the woods for extended periods, and I’d like to think I could make a decent homesteader. So what’s the fuss with a little pause on the water supply for a couple of days?

The truth is, I’m afraid that I simply am annoyed by inconvenience. The interruptus of my everyday luxuries, the ones I’ve grown accustomed to expecting. I don’t like the monkey wrench in my routine. I hate to admit this, but I think it may be true.

Along with the rains, has come a wild wind that shakes the windows and rattles the trees with a fierceness.

I once met a wise man who suggested that when seeking the answer to a question, look to a tree.

If there was a question (besides ‘will they fix the water pump today?’), I think it would be ‘how can I be more gracious in less than ideal conditions?’

Outside the safe container of my windows, leaves and limbs are thrown and whipped about. What are they to do but take it? Or break.

Today, I’ll look to a tree. Try for more grace. Bend with what is blown my way.

2014-02-17_trees

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 21 Comments

Weekly Photo Challenge: Treasure

2014-02-14_treasure

The Bohemian and I had made a last-minute, end-of-the-day decision to go catch the sunset. We threw an orange, some crackers and two beers in a backpack, and made our way to one of our favorite spots on the island: the beach where we first met.

Once on the sand, we wandered along the shore, taking in the salt air, letting time slow. As my toes moved through infinite grains, I discovered a shard of pottery, its diamond-esque shape etched with a blue feather. Perhaps a harbinger of sorts.

Because little did I/we know that before that sun went down, we would be enraptured in an essence of love. Some all-encompassing infiltration that seemed to gleam in the light, reflecting off the sea, moving with the breeze in the trees.

There had been no plan on his part. But there it was. The Bohemian was feeling it, no words, but I could sense it.

So when the syllables finally moved from his mouth to the air: “Jessica Lynn Dofflemyer, will you marry me?” I soaked in every sound and searched deep within my heart.

There was love. Our love. This love. The all-encompassing Love with the capital L. A Love that is here for everyone.

Once in a while you find someone with whom you can share that love…it is a true treasure.

And to that, (and to the Bohemian) I said ‘yes.’

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/14/photo-challenge-treasure/