Month: May 2016

The Moving Diaries: Gardening

May 22, 2016

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Our new deck now has a line of pots, planted this morning to herbs and tomatoes. The front porch has six blue ceramic pots of flowers and foliage plants. For the first time in twenty-two years, it was a pleasure to plant these. I worked in the garage, the door open to the sun and breeze, and there wasn’t a mosquito or blackfly in sight.

Unlike here in the old house, where after about April 30 doing anything outside means repellent and long sleeves. Backing onto swamp, surrounded by trees, the bugs are just a part of the nature around us, benefiting the birds and bats, frogs and fish – but not me. I can tolerate mosquitoes, but I react very badly to blackfly, bites swelling to the size of a quarter very quickly. Getting the containers planted every spring was an endurance test…and every year I planted fewer. This year, I’ve pruned the shrubs, and the only other thing we’re doing is keeping the grass cut and edged, until it sells.

I find myself looking forward to gardening again, getting my hands in the soil, planning plantings, in a way I haven’t for some time. The new garden is smaller, and already well planted to perennials, which helps – I’m not having to decide between birding or gardening in May – there is time for both. And for sitting on the deck with a drink and a book, just relaxing. A robin is nesting in one of our trees, and the shrubs had foraging cardinals and chipping sparrows this morning. I’ve put a hummingbird feeder up, along with a couple of hanging baskets of red Calibrachoa to attract them: no luck yet (that I’ve seen), but I live hopefully.  Eighteen days until moving day!

 

The Moving Diaries: What the Cats Think

May 14, 2016

Today we culled and boxed the books from the library, a herculean task that took hours and has left us with boxes to be moved, boxes to be donated, boxes to be recycled, and empty shelves. And one very unsure cat. (Mind you, we have two cats, but more about that in a bit.)

She is sitting in boxes, sitting in empty shelves, watching every move, stalking around investigating everything. The last time we boxed up all these books, we were renovating…and then half-way through that summer I had major surgery, and returned to be in bed much of each day for a few weeks – something she thought was the ideal way to spend time. Is she remembering that? Or is she remembering being cloistered in the attic for most of each day while we wall-papered and panelled and painted? Whatever is going on in her little black and white head, she knows something is different, and she’s not sure she likes it.

Pye, a.k.a. Fur-for-Brains, on the other hand, is oblivious. Completely and utterly oblivious. As long as her favourite chair is there, and she can sit on BD’s lap while he watches football (soccer), or on my ankles when I sit on the couch in the evening, she’s happy.

As I write Pyxel is sitting in the lid of one box with her head inside another, wondering whatever cat brains wonder. I know she’s upset, because she’s given up on almost all her routines, and this is a cat who lived by routines. She’ll be the one at the new house who will hide, and come out tentatively, creeping out to peek around corners and plaintively meow at us. Pye will be unhappy, but her need for human companionship and contact will outweigh the scariness of a new place. At least, that’s my guess. I’ll let you know in mid June.

Meanwhile, we’ll keep filling boxes, and living in almost-controlled chaos. The new house has had the electrician in to move services (are all electricians garrulous? I was there with him over six hours and I swear I heard his entire life story and much more…a nice man, but could he talk!), and the broken baseboards and the horribly-installed quarter-round replaced by the renovation crew. The painter starts Monday. We move on June 8th. I haven’t started screaming, yet. Bets on when I start?

The Moving Diaries: Contractors, contractors, and more contractors.

May 7, 2016

On Thursday afternoon, I was on the phone to one contractor and BD was on the phone to another, while the new fridge was being delivered. It’s been that sort of week, known to everyone who’s ever moved, I suppose.

We’ve met with the painter, the gas-fireplace installer, the landscaper, the general contractor, and had a plumber in to investigate a leak. Of all of them, we have the quote from the painter, and have given him the go-ahead. We’re still waiting to hear from the cupboard-painter (apparently this is a specialized skill, different from painting walls and trim), and are waiting for a quote for replacing the shower in the master bedroom en-suite. We’ve chosen the style for the fireplace. The two shrubs which block the human door to the garage and one of the ventilation vents are scheduled to be removed.

At the other end, BD and the home inspector went through the current house on Friday, looking for the make-or-break flaws. Surprisingly, there were not too many: most of which BD has already repaired. It’s a quirky century house, and it’s not going to attract anyone who is looking for a new build, but there will be a buyer out there somewhere. I think up real estate ads in my head: ‘Century home, many original features. Four hundred square foot third floor with potential for private master bedroom or nanny suite. Backs on to conservation land: watch deer and foxes from the sun-room, while wild turkeys, grouse, and more come to the feeders.’ All true. Is it enough to make someone overlook the fact the original features include most of the windows, and the basement that, even with a sump pump, is on the wetter side of damp during spring thaw? Well, we did, twenty-two years ago. Someone will.

Meanwhile I cull and pack, a few boxes at a time. Today I did the bathroom, resulting in two boxes of supplies that can be moved immediately into the new house’s bathrooms, and the open shelves that support my desk. That produced two more boxes that will go to the new house’s basement for storage for now, a large bag of garbage, and eight empty wicker baskets. Yesterday I cut the grass here (a task I will NOT miss) (well, actually I finished cutting it – I started it Wednesday, and for the first time in all the years I’ve been using an electric mower, I ran over the cord. With a new plug and a slightly shorter cord, I finished it yesterday) and loaded all the garden art into my car. Today I found new places for the various pieces, at least for now: I need to see how the new garden changes over the seasons before I know if I’ve placed them correctly.

I’ve met two of our new neighbours, nice people both; waved to a lot more as I drive and bike in and out. I have, as I planned, gone birding every morning but one, biking from the house to the Arboretum. Friday I biked to the grocery store and the butcher. The move progresses, not always smoothly, but we move forward. That, I think, is the best I can ask – or hope – for.

The Moving Diaries: Phase 2: Juggling Two Houses

May 1, 2016

We took possession of the new house on April 29th. It was mid-afternoon before the lawyer’s office called to say everything was done; we immediately drove over to take another look at the house, inside and out.

It’s an opportunity that doesn’t come very often in a life, wandering around the new living space, thinking about wall colours, furniture placement, what will go in the kitchen cupboards. In our thirty-eight years together, we’ve moved five times before: three apartments, two houses. This is the first time the move is to a house that needs only cosmetic upgrades, and the first time we have enough money to make the changes before we move in.

Yesterday and today I cleaned, the kitchen, pantry and bathroom cupboards: everything else was spotless, but these needed a better cleaning than they, for the most part, had had. BD put up shelves in the basement, and took down the curtain rods and runners: we prefer blinds. We bought a couple of new light fixtures, and new knobs for the kitchen cupboards, and collected paint samples.

And now we’re kind of in holding mode. Tomorrow we meet with the person who will measure the three bay windows for blinds, and the day after with the contractor who is doing the painting and minor repairs that are needed. Thursday we meet with another contractor, this one to choose the gas fireplace we’re having installed. We’re hoping the timelines will be such that we’ll be able to move in at the beginning of June.

But until this work is done, we can only move so much stuff over. The basement is getting things that are of low priority (like boxes of Christmas things, and winter boots, and the picnic basket) and the garage is the repository for the boxes that need unpacking fairly quickly. Now the cleaning is done, we actually need to spend more time here, sorting and packing, and then making runs to town to drop off things at the charity shop or the new house. But the temptation to go to the new house is so strong!

I’m also making endless lists. Things to ask the contractors. Things to bring over – tape, magnets for the fridge, teabags. Things to consider – can we replace the track lighting near the kitchen island with a different type of fixture? We won’t know until later in the year, when it’s dark at meal preparation time. Will the north-facing deck get enough sun to need a sunshade? Again, it’s too early to know: the two trees shading it haven’t leafed out yet.

And at the other end, we’re waiting to hear if the person who wants to buy this house can get the financing. I make other lists for this house: what needs fixing, where I need to send change-of-address notices. Reminders to get the well tested, the septic tank pumped, the insurance changed.

It’s a lot of work. But yesterday, taking a break from the cleaning, I walked out the door, got on my bicycle, and biked the short distance over to the Arboretum. I locked my bike to the rack provided, and walked for an hour, listening to the birds, taking pictures of spring wildflowers, watching a raccoon (this one where it should be, and not in our chimney!) hunting through the mud at the edge of pond for food. The Canada geese nesting on a hummock in the swamp have goslings now: I stood on the boardwalk and watched them exploring their brand new world. And then I unlocked my bike, and five minutes later I was back home. It’s definitely worth the work.