2024 Wrap Up from Heartroost

Happy Holidays to you all!

We’ve had quite the year … full of interactions and hopes and love and pain and joys and surprises. More drama and struggles than most years we can remember, but more grace and mercies too. God has taken good care of us, as always.

The most memorable parts included …

• Both Douglas and Fynn had vehicle accidents

• Michael’s sister Becky died

• Bethany started a business

• We and 8 other friends were able to surprise Michael’s sister Keren on her 60th Birthday Caribbean cruise (Swam with Dolphins! Mayan ruins! Games!)

• We all made it to Chicago for a few lovely days of Rule family time

• Bethany had months of PT to fix her left shoulder

• We all weathered the flu and Covid

• Given(!) a mini excavator last month, which Fynn immediately used to build himself a new road

• Started work as designers for Bright Barrel, a friend’s new non-alcoholic beer company

• Took several trips to Chattanooga to work on Tom and Martha’s camper.

• Over 150 of our trees were knocked down by Helene, without damage to a single structure!

• Lightning struck twice within 100 yards of the camper, and one of the strikes fried the router and tripped all the breakers

• Found homes for a stray dog and the 7 puppies she had on our property

• Gained two other teenage puppies

• Cleared fallen trees out of the highway many times

• Took thousands of tree/sky/fog photos (never losing the wonder)

• Watched Fynn and friends build a Viking-ish longhouse in the woods, with many weekends full of teenagers camping here as a result

• Made some more local connections

• Caught the northern lights (in TN!) for the first time ever

• Had a car blow up while driving to Becky’s funeral and were given a Cadillac(!) to drive home in

• Sampled a few of the 430 churches in Hawkins County

• Fynn and his partner came in 6th in a national engineering competition

Now to catch you up on each of us, and give some more details if you’re up for that …

Michael had a 3 week Sol LeWitt install job in Georgia (a welcome surprise, as that work dried up last year after a re-org), did some drawing and painting commissions, created a logo and can designs for Bright-Barrel.com, reworked the water system, sawmilled lumber for ourselves and a neighbor, ran out a lot of chain saw batteries making small and steady dents in the massive cleanup work from Helene, took care of Becky for several weeks in PA on two different occasions in the last four months before she passed away on January 27th, helped put a new roof on Keren and Bobby’s place, sold some plein air paintings, and drew a lot of portraits at the local Heritage Days festival (our 3rd year there), as well as on many weekends in downtown Knoxville. He also started regrowing his mustache on August 27th, exactly one year after cutting it off. He’s just now starting to catch up to Douglas!

Bethany made a few local friends! She did some cleaning and organizing for a couple in town, which helped her decide to start her own organizing business, spending much of the summer launching organizedbyfriday.com. Gaining clients in a small town is rather challenging, but she’s trusting she’ll get more once the word-of-mouth chain gets going. Her shoulder slowed her down for the first part of the year, but she’s back to normal activities now and relearning how enjoyable it is to tackle land projects with Michael 😊. Many hours were spent turning Michael’s drawings into NA beer can designs, as well as producing a brand book and various marketing materials. She also fixed the camper’s furnace, fed hungry kids, attended the local mystery book club, ran hundreds of errands, met up with as many friends as possible (special thanks for those who came to me!), enjoyed two different girls’ weekends immensely, and went to funerals in Chicago and Iowa, in addition to Becky’s in PA.

Fynn wrecked his ancient and beloved 1988 Volvo 240 on January 4th on his way to school, taking out a mailbox and spinning before hitting a tree. He needed 53 stitches to put the left side of his face back together, and God spared his left eye by a fraction of an inch. Many many mercies, and he’s got a few light scars that will be lifelong reminders. Just one of those mercies was that the doc on duty at the local hospital just happened to have been a NASCAR doc for many years, so had a lot of relevant experience in fine stitching work! Fynn also bought himself a nice big Stihl chainsaw this summer and managed to bounce it off his knee while we were away for the day. He had a friend stitch the shallow wound back together and added another scar to his collection.

We celebrated his 18th in March with a party in Knoxville with friends and family, featuring one of Keren’s famous group games. Adulthood at last! He’s been in the work-based learning program at school all year, leaving school early and working 6-hour shifts at Mahle in their Automotive division making pistons. He gets home late and tired. He was in the Robotics and Technology Student Association groups Spring semester and got into the National engineering problem solving competition in Orlando with his partner, coming in 6th out of 400+ teams! The project wasn’t known ahead of time, and they had to solve a problem something like “You have 90 minutes to take these 5 pieces of paper, 2 pieces of card stock, a few straws and popsicle sticks and 20 inches of string, and make the longest cantilevered bridge that you can (using a 20# dumbbell as a counterweight) which must hold up a tennis ball for at least 15 seconds.” We were very glad that Mahle sponsored the 5-day trip for both of them.

Fynn spends many weekends in Knoxville with friends, has applied to UT Knoxville for next year, and is tackling the last few bottom-of-the-barrel classes he needs to graduate next May. He’s continued forging on his own time too … helmets, a gauntlet and a short sword, and many knives, hooks, and pendants. He is also the defacto automotive expert around here and in addition to putting a new engine in his backup Volvo over the summer he fixed my car at least twice and Michael’s truck once. He often gets asked to diagnose and fix things by his friends, and friends of friends, and is beloved by his automotive teacher at school for his insights and drive.

Alex, Donny, Douglas, Fynn, Paul

Douglas moved back to Mechanicsburg PA (after a year back home with us following his first stint up there three years ago) on December 30th of 2023 and works in a custom door factory, sharing an apartment with his cousin Ashriel. He’s delighted to be living in a solid building, not a camper or his van, which he left with us as its transmission needs work. His accident was just a couple of weeks ago when he was biking to work for his 6am shift, wearing an orange vest over his coat per usual, when a car came over the hill in his lane and hit him head-on. He smacked his head so hard on the hood that he cut his lip open, broke a tooth, and passed out for a few minutes in the road. Sadly, the driver took off and no one has come forward as a witness and no security cameras picked up the scene. He had CT scans of his head to make sure all was as it should be, and a slight concussion, but is healing fine and will just need some dental work. Once again, God’s many many mercies! We’ve been able to see him a few times this year, thankful for that also.

Heartstrings and hopes …

We’re not even remotely close to where we had hoped to be as we approach the 5-year mark on this property, and while that’s no shock as the hopes were high, the current list of unfinished things seems mighty long! We don’t have guest quarters, a start on a house, anywhere near enough storage, or even all our belongings on the land yet, as we still have storage units in PA and Rogersville. Switching gears from road-life to land-life has been much harder than we thought. Perhaps we’re clinging to the freedom of the Heartloose years a bit too much, which doesn’t translate all that well to scratching out a life on 32 acres of steep woods? We’re still figuring things out.

We want to share this land with others, and let folks marinate in the peace and quiet (if you don’t count the dogs!). Have cabins for them to stay in, tent spots, and a camper hookup or two. A mistake we made early on was inviting someone we love to come stay for a bit before we’d established ourselves here … introducing another player just as we were gathering steam as our team of four. It rocked the roost, twisted the hierarchy and relationships, and cost us our privacy as they lived in a tent just 15 feet from the camper. Despite another set of helpful hands to pitch in, adding another voice and ego to the projects made it impossible to keep us all on board and working as a unit. It was a struggle, and went on for two years before they found another place to go. It took me another year to stop looking over my shoulder.

By then Douglas had moved to PA, and Fynn decided to go to public school. Our team was effectively reduced to two. We did a lot of work in Knoxville where we still had far more contacts, but the daily commuting (75 miles each way) became too much, so we pretty much stopped that work after the 3rd year. The one exception was building Keren her dream handicap-accessible bathroom, which ended up taking almost 4 months to finish … that’s a novel in itself. It’s a lovely bathroom though!

We love the land more every year, and are learning its quirks and seasons and habits. Yes there are times when I think we’ve bitten off more than we can chew, but reading Michael’s old blog post about finding this place can turn that around pretty fast, as I’m reminded of how God orchestrated every detail. I can’t dwell on the comparison between what I expected to accomplish and the current reality but need to accept the things that haven’t happened yet, and work on what we can do. Keep teaming up with Michael whenever possible, pick away at making stone walls and clearing land for growing food, and design and project-plan the spaces that I’m missing the most. Learn to ask for help when we need it and follow up on the contacts that we’re slowly making in the local community. Prioritize relationships wherever possible, and trust that things will happen in God’s timing.

The dream fire hasn’t gone out but needs reviving more often than I’d like. We’ve chosen a life that isn’t very structured, well knowing that comes with a lot more variables and pitfalls. We’ve freelanced most of our married life, and that continues as Michael decided about 18 months ago it was now-or-never on his art career as the major income source. While he’s making some headway with commissions and plein-air paintings, it’s not a steady stream yet. The cleaning and organizing work I’ve done hasn’t brought in more than a trickle yet either. Despite the challenges, God has many ways of keeping us afloat!

Neither Michael nor I are the greatest at selling ourselves, it’s hard for us to put a value on our God-given talents, and our tendency is to over-deliver. The years on the road freed us from that need as we never put a price on anything, and picking that up again is tricky. We have so many things to learn and never lack in ways we need to grow. Michael often asks God to enlarge our hearts, and it certainly seems to be necessary on a daily basis!

We are not at a loss for things to do, despite few outside jobs, as the lists are endless. The camper is old and takes a lot of maintenance and TLC. The steep gravel driveway and growing system of dirt roads, which are mostly only 4-wheeler passable and several are still blocked by Helene’s damage, take a lot of tending and continually need improvement. Drainage is a frequent issue, but we’ve made a lot of small improvements in that over the years. Our fresh-water system is based on rain collection from tarps on the mountainside, as well as harvesting creek water for the 4-5 months of the year that it runs. We upgraded to an old vinyl billboard for our main collection spot this year and it’s really upped our supply! Michael is constantly improving, checking, tweaking and pumping from one tank to another as we currently have three 275-gallon IBC tanks.

One of many trees we’ve helped clean up so that traffic can resume.

There is always wood collection, tree processing, firewood chopping, sawmilling and stacking boards to dry, finding places to put new stacks of drying wood and things to cover them with, and sharpening sawmill and chainsaw blades. We are getting more creative in the extension cord farm that powers everything from the “temporary” pole that was put in 5 years ago, until a primary residence is built. More storage is always needed, despite two finished sheds and Fynn’s workshop with a sleeping loft, many things are still tarped or in storage elsewhere. We never lack for vehicles to fix, errands to run in town (25 minutes) or the nearest city with stores like Home Depot or Aldi (45 minutes), dogs to walk, and leaves to clear.

We gather with family in Knoxville when we can, keep a bulletin board current with all the local connections we’ve made and people we’ve met, and wave (as you do here) at every single person we pass while driving, or see driving by our place. It DOES seem that the seeds we’ve planted and been given are just starting to produce fruit, as I had my first lunch with a local friend earlier this month, and we have some new acquaintances to call and follow up with. Hope is staying afloat!

We have had our health preserved and healing when needed, 32 acres of gorgeous woods to walk in and tend and shape and use for good, kind and delightful boys that are finding their wings, animals to love on, game-changing equipment to make progress with, friends that love us and pray for us, and more answered prayers than you can shake a stick at. We still have NO idea how to accomplish all that is in front of us or where the next need will be met but are asking God for vision and words and customers and connections, and trust that He will continue to carry, love on, and open up doors for us as necessary. We covet your prayers for this also, if you’re so inclined.

We love you all, thank God for you, and hope to find a way to see you in 2025! Thanks for being part of our journey.

Much love,
Michael, Bethany, Douglas, and Fynn

+ the hounds Farven (6), Diesel (1.5) and Dixie (1.5)
+ the cats Sparrow (15) and Snick (1.5)

Many more photos of 2024 can be found in this Google gallery and most are captioned, just click on the speech bubble in the lower right-hand corner to see them.

The Boyds

After Aran and Lexie's wedding, the Boyds said we could park at their house.  When we got there, we parked in the cul-de-sac and got unhitched. We went inside and met Bordeax the dog, and talked. 

Two or three days later, Stan offered to take us water skiing. So we went.  

We had to pull the boat out of storage so we took off the tarp and towed it to the launch. We launched and Lois was there but she had some appointment so she could only be there for part of the time. So we went on the Delta.  At first it was slow because there was a lot of parked boats. 

When we got out of the slow zone we went for awhile.  Then Stan showed us how to ski and did a test run. 

Douglas went next, he got up for about one second. 

After Douglas went, we took Lois back and dropped her off.  Then we went back out. I went next but the skis didn't fit so I kneeboarded.  I lasted for about a minute. 

I think Mom went next. I don't think she could get up so she kneeboarded.  My dad got up for about 3 minutes ...

... then I went again on the kneeboard.  I was able to stay up for about 5 minutes, until there was some sort of waterfall and it made waves and I was getting pulled into it. 

We went around a bit and looked at some houses, and started to go back. When we got back we went and towed the boat back and put the tarp back on and went back to their house.  

The next day we went to Aran and Lexie's.  When we got there we talked awhile until me and Douglas went to the park across the street. After we came back we went to sleep on the floor.  The next morning we got up.  Aran went to work and we all walked to the park.  Me and Douglas played awhile while the grownups talked.  When we got to the apartment it was time to go. 

We got back to Stan's house.  He offered to take us flying that day.  We went to the airport and Stan drove us there.  We had to wait for the plane.  Stan checked the plane. 

Everything was good.  So we waited for the runway to be clear and Stan put it into full throttle and we took off. 

We flew for awhile until we got out of range of the airport and Stan said I could fly the plane and showed me how the controls worked. 

After that we flew over the Golden Gate Bridge. 

Not long after that we started heading back. Stan did a partial dive but we couldn't do the death drop of zero gravity because my mom got sick.  

The next morning we left. 

Westward Ho! / The Wedding Weekend

Saturday August 27 ... The Pre-Party

The bliss of Saturday morning's hot shower cannot be underestimated. Boondocking doesn't generally allow for showering, mostly because we don't travel with enough water in the tanks for it as every gallon adds almost 8 lbs to our total weight. So despite the fact that we were in a drought-stricken state, I allowed myself to stand there as long as I wanted, and it was a delight.

A quick morning trip to the thrift store (I was having serious doubts about the wisdom of platform heels) netted Michael a new tie, and I settled into the feeling that wobbly or not, I'd be wearing the shoes I already had. I've never been a heel-lover, and teetering just isn't my thing.

We took off for Golden Gate Park, where the pre-party was to be held … and as we approached the Golden Gate bridge it finally hit me that we were about to see Aran and Lexie for the first time in several years! The grin started spreading :). A last minute change in parking plans got us a lovely free street spot right in the park, and we walked over to the meadow and dove in for bear hugs.

Lexie and Aran, summer of 2008

We met Aran and Lexie back in 2008, when Michael moved to MASS MoCA for 6 months to help install a huge retrospective of Sol LeWitt's work. The boys and I stayed in the city, but went up for two months in the summer, and got to know a lot of the crew Michael had been telling me about … including these two lovelies. We stayed in as close touch as we could, but once they moved to CA, it got a bit harder to get together. This was the first time we'd seen them in at least 4 years.

Lexie and her Mom

As at any wedding … it's a relief when you know more than just the bride and groom, and we happily found a few familiar faces, as well as some lovely new ones. There were some lawn games, a food truck that came just for the occasion, and lots of fun and conversation. A great way to set the stage for the next day, taking some of the awkwardness out of meeting so many people for the first time. Maybe that's just me?

I have a lot less tolerance for new social situations than I used to, meaning I find big groups harder to deal with as I get older. My claustrophobia in packed crowds is far worse than it used to be … I could never do the Taste of Chicago on July 4th again, at least as it used to be done, with millions packed along the shore and no place to go. Makes me shiver to remember it! But I also find that I have to do a bit more mental prep for going into new situations than I used to. I don't like it, but it's where I'm at. I think a lot of the redefining of my identity in the last 10 years has added some new insecurities, but taken away a lot of others. It's different terrain now.

We helped clean up and then made our exit, comparing Golden Gate Park to Central Park as we made our way back to the truck. It was delightfully wild, and much less manicured than most of Central Park … a very welcome change.

We made our way back home over the procession of bridges that had gotten us there, gawked at San Quentin in the deepening gloom, and called it a day.

The Wedding / Sunday August 28

We went, we watched, we talked, we loved, we hugged, we took lots of crazy photo booth shots, we devoured, we listened, we met cool people, we toasted, we laughed, we danced, we dragged ourselves home, we slept.

I'll let the photos tell the wedding story here, but add in that getting to be almost 6' tall for a day was really really fun. I'd do it again in a heartbeat! I didn't take my camera for once … it just felt like too much, so all these pics are from Michael's phone.

lots more pics here

previous posts : DAY 1  / DAY 2 / DAY 3 / DAY 4 / DAY 5 / DAY 6 / DAY 7 / DAY 8 / DAY 9 / DAY 10 / DAY 11 / DAY 12

one more wrap-up post to come tomorrow ...

Westward Ho! / Day 8 ... Utah ... Wow!

Monday, August 22

Matilda in hiding ...

Up early, atlas consulted, and decision reached – we'd cut southwest across Utah, and try to hit three national parks in two days; Canyon Reef, Bryce Canyon, and Zion. A brief stop at the Utah Welcome Center modified that slightly, as the very friendly and knowledgeable fellow behind the counter warned me that there were height restrictions between Bryce and Zion that would be too low for us … we're around 12.5' high with our air conditioner. Glad to find out in advance!

We cut off of I70 onto 39 South, and the fun started. The terrain changed constantly … and suddenly. You'd go up over a rise and come out into a whole new planet.

Much of it felt like Mars, for the redness and the nearly inexplicable formations, but it was as delightful as it was disorienting. Cloudy, a bit of rain, and nicely cool.

We hit Canyon Reef first … which was really nice as you drive through the canyons and rocks, rather than peering at them from an overlook. It felt personal and accessible.

Navajo Dome, Capitol Reef NP

We stopped at many pullouts, listened to a ranger talk about the petroglyphs left by the Fremont Indian culture, picked free apples in orchards left by a former Mormon outpost called Fruita, and then took off towards Bryce in the late and rainy afternoon, heading south on Rt 12.

The Rand McNally Atlas has no elevation markings on the state pages, other than the occasional peak height. It's my main form of navigation, as Google is often not available, and I prefer paper in my hands and the “big picture” anyway. So my assumption that the upcoming Dixie National Forest was rather flat was a somewhat misguided one.

We climbed up over the 9600' peak of Boulder Mountain while passing through, and saw a number of boondockers and some cattle dotting the rolling meadows at the top. So tempted to join them (despite the cold!), but we went on, though not without leaving our windows down so we could continue to enjoy the divine smell of wet sagebrush … yum!

One overlook near the top, half lit with the last of the sun, had a view of Mt Ellen's 11,500' peak, and the “biggest” vista I can ever remember seeing. Layers upon layers of buttes and trees and mountains and colors and light. Utterly magical. According to the placard there, we were looking at the last bit of the lower 48 states to get mapped, which happened sometime in the 1850s.

Then down the mountain in the gathering gloom, including a couple spots of 14% grade, heading into the large empty-looking blob on my map labeled as the Grand Staircase Escalante National Monument. About which I knew exactly nothing. So why we were shocked to come down off the mountain and find ourselves on a wet, winding, very narrow road between two deep canyons, I'm not too sure. It was par for the course.

It was visual overload for all of us, but insanely wild and empty and beautiful, though increasingly hard to see. We wound, swooped, curved, teetered (or so it seemed) through the trackless wild, seeing only a couple other vehicles. The only sign of habitation in the next hour was a coffee shop(!) perched out on a promontory over a canyon, but it sadly had closed at 4pm. I don't think we would have fit in their parking lot anyhow.

We climbed our way slowly up and out of the canyons, headed for the next dot on the map that implied people and services, labeled Escalante. The last overlook offered the story of mule trains delivering mail there, in winter at least, as recently as 1942. It wasn't hard to imagine at all.

The road we'd just traveled ...

Matilda purred her way into town (that filter wash made a big difference!) and we found a pricey-but-we'll-take-it RV park that had a laundromat, WiFi, and a paved pull-through … perfect! My journal entry for the day ends with “exhausted and exhilarated”, and that pretty much sums it up. It was an astoundingly full day of strange and beautiful sights, and the fact that it was all surprising made it even more enjoyable.  Lack of research meant that the expectations were pretty low, and we gobbled up the beauty we stumbled across without having any regrets over things we missed. 

see Flickr for lots more pics for Utah! and Capitol Reef and Grand Staircase Escalante

previous posts : DAY 1  / DAY 2 / DAY 3 / DAY 4 / DAY 5 / DAY 6 / DAY 7

Mainly Maine

Matilda + rig, as seen thru the periscope at the Naval Submarine Force Museum in Groton CT

Speeding east from Michigan, which I last blogged about, we made two quick and lovely stops in PA with friends and neighbors, spent a month at a family-style campground in CT while Michael did a Sol LeWitt job at Yale, and then wandered up into Vermont for a week of family downtime.  We badly needed it after spending 4 weeks cozied up to mostly cliquish neighbors who were "seasonals" and all knew each other, and whose kitchen sinks and flickering TVs we could easily see.  We're slowly learning how to choose campgrounds, and going with the smaller family-run ones that have few seasonal spots seems to be the way to go. 

We reluctantly packed up our VT hideaway, which was the nicest campground to date, and started towards friends and work in Bangor Maine on the back roads.  We've come to realize that small towns aren't as scary as we thought in a 55' long rig, that Matilda really can pull us over the mountains (Eastern ones at least), and that there are ways of finding places to park that open up more meal possibilities.  I've come to hate the travel plazas on the highway, aside from the fact that parking is easy.  The food just sucks, and it didn't help that at the last one we stopped at, I came into the dining area after Michael and the boys were already seated and eating on the far side of the room, and Michael chose to holler at the top of his lungs "BETHANY! WE'RE OVER HERE!" and then smirk as every single eye in the place watched me waltz/slink across the room to where they sat.  Yup.

So we took two days on the back roads to get from SW Vermont to Bangor, including truly boondocking for the first time at a trailhead parking lot right on the NH/ME border.  We finally got a second battery hooked up, and now have enough power for a night or two.  After poking around roadside stands, playing on the banks of the Kennebec River, and watching Fynn for signs of concussion as he landed hard after falling 8 feet out of a pine tree (thank God for Arnica!) ... we arrived at the Drown's place on a Saturday afternoon, their open arms a very welcome sight.  

We know Tim and Karen from waaay back, before they were married, and though we hadn't seen each other for about a dozen years, it was like nothing had changed.  We immediately felt right at home.  It's really a funny thing though, this staying in people's driveways business.  We're guests, but we don't sleep in the house.  We're working on projects a lot of the time, so we tend to stay a bit longer than the typical guest anyhow and are in/out of the house constantly, while our hosts are going about their work and usual commitments.  It doesn't take too many days for the "company face", if there is one, to fade.  We seem to become a part of the landscape, learning how much socializing is desired, and when to stay in the camper and do our own stuff.  The balance is different at every stop.  

It takes a certain vulnerability to let us in, trust that we'll all get along, work out the best boundaries for each family, and leave before we start to get too tiresome.  It's been a huge learning curve but it's getting a bit easier I think to read the signs.  We're finding that we can't really commit in advance to arrival dates, as it puts way too big of a crimp in the feeling that we need to stay as long as it takes to be done, whatever Done is.  Whether it's finishing a project, a conversation, an outing, or simply the feeling crystalizing that it's time to Go.  It's a product of being wayfarers, but something that I didn't really understand before we started out.  

I'm struggling to find the words to describe it, but this life feels a lot like boating to me.  Nothing is ever fixed, there's always a bit of a rocking motion even if you're anchored, and progress is hard to see but there's no doubt that we're moving towards something.  I'm finding my sea legs, perhaps?  I'm seeing though that the more at home I feel somewhere, the more I get a bit antsy/wistful and feel like I need to move on before I lose my nerve.  I'm a homebody.  Yes, the camper itself is completely and entirely home, and I love it.  It's just big enough, cozy enough, and nicely portable ... and I always have my own bed!  But there is a goal at the end of all this, which involves community of some sort, and when I find a particularly delicious bit of fellowship somewhere, or a super homey home, it makes me a bit hungry to have more consistent access to things like that.  To build our own stuff, not just things for other people.

That time is coming, but it can't come until this trip is done.  And when that will be is just as vague as how long we're staying at our current stop.  (We're in Shadyside MD, by the way, in case you're wondering).  We'll know it's over when it feels like time to stop, and I trust God to make it clear to both of us.  In the meantime, we're learning more than I ever thought possible, in both heart-knowledge and building/fixing/creating skills.  People keep letting us do all kinds of fun projects, trusting us to get it done even when we don't have a portfolio that shows any real experience in that particular arena.  It kinda surprises me every time, but it's a lovely trust to have.  

Have I mentioned lately how much we truly love working together?  It's keeps getting sweeter, and just plain feels really really good when we get to.   I don't know if it has anything to do with people trusting us to get stuff done, but there's something about combining our skills and thought processes that gives us a joint confidence that's almost started to erode our ability to work separately.  Feels like a somewhat dangerous comment, but it's true.  When you get in the habit of trading responsibilities back and forth, trusting the other person to fill in your gaps, it becomes a lot more like swing dancing, and a lot less like YMCA.  The possibilities increase, as do the risks.  I wouldn't have it any other way.    

So ... back to Tim and Karen's driveway, where we ended up parked for 2 weeks.  They're both teachers now, having made a career switch nearly a decade ago when Tim was diagnosed with MS.  They have a big rambling old house that's full of charm and character and love.  Their 5th (and last) child left for college right before we arrived, but the house isn't empty as they have 3 high school exchange students living with them, two from China and one from Vietnam.  The dinner table was lively and lingering, the flow of the house harmonious, and we all completely relaxed.  

We painted a couple of rooms, landscaped, roofed, organized, porch fixed, went to church, walked Fritz, and went sight seeing.  Acadia National Park wasn't too far away, so we visited Sand Beach, Schoodic point, and Bar Harbor (once frustratingly as Google doesn't know how to get to Sand Beach), and once deliberately so we could go whale watching.  We stuffed ourselves with lobster, played ping pong, saw sperm whales, climbed rocks, played with dead jellyfish, watched piles of Star Wars, made new friends, ate real chinese food, and were loved on in countless visible and invisible ways.  

We seriously toyed with the idea of heading to NS/NFLD from Maine, but weather and finances dictated a turn south, so after we reluctantly left Tim and Karen waving in their driveway, we wandered southwest to Turner where we'd booked a week at Martin's Creek Campground for down time.  It jumped into the "best campground so far" slot on the first morning (after parking in the dark, never fun!) when Fynn and the cats and I skidded down the bank behind our site and perched on a fallen tree that spanned the creek ... only to have a great blue heron land 10' away on the end of the branch we were sitting on, stare at an utterly oblivious Edmund for a minute or two, and then launch himself off again in search of a more likely breakfast!  It was truly idyllic ... Michael managed to get a painting done, we found a local cider brewery (yum!), watched a mink plonk it's way up and down the creek bank while we were out canoeing, and soaked up sun and solitude.  It felt like we'd finished the unwinding we started in VT, and was truly healthy for us all.

Next up was Mike and Ruth Anne's place, in Brunswick Maine.  Ruth Anne and I are birds of a feather for sure, and though we'd only met in person the week before (when she came up to our campground for an afternoon) it was a delight to spend a whole week together, catching up on thoughts and experiences and life ... it felt like picking up right we we left off, even though most of our communicating had been via the web and phone up until then.  We share a past in that we both grew up in the same church group, and that gave us a tremendous amount in common.  Adding to the delight was the fact that our husbands spoke the same language, and got along famously.  

While we didn't do too much to their rental house other than a bit of winterizing, we did do a lot of hiking ... and Ruth Anne is a champion hiker!  Their son Bradley was only 7 months old, but no stranger to taking a 5 mile tromp through woods or salt marshes or over boulders, strapped to his mama.  While there was a wee bit of initial grumbling by my two boys, they were soon won over by the views, the trees, the remote beaches, and the rocks to run over or build with, depending on the size.  Fynn especially caught the bug, and asked to go again and again.  It made me wonder why we don't voluntarily hike, but we never really have, at least as a family.  Ruth Anne's enthusiasm kindled a real spark though, and the exercise was great for us all.  Maine really wormed it's way into our hearts. 

It came time to move on however, and we pulled out of our (front yard this time!) spot and got back on the road.  Temps had dropped yet again, and we were really feeling the pressure to get further south. We were heading to Massachusetts and family and friends in the vicinity of Boston next, but wanted a night to ourselves in between.  I'd reserved a spot at a nearly-deserted campground that was open for a couple more weeks, and just before we got there Matilda started making funny noises.  Increasingly funny noises.  We hit a rest area, pried her hood open, and started poking around.  Dressed up more than usual from going to church with Ruth Anne that morning, and both too short to see much in the engine without climbing half into it, we provided some amusement to the truckers we were parked next to.  Eventually suspecting the vacuum pump, we called a mechanic friend for confirmation (thanks Tim!) and limped on to the campground and a late supper.

Our one night turned into I think four, as we found a very taciturn man in a local shop who agreed to put it in, but said the part was over $400 and would take 3 days to get there.  After Amazon Prime came to the rescue with a $90 part, he agreed to put it in.  I'm not sure more than 50 words were exchanged in the entire process, including bringing the part for inspection, dropping the truck off, and picking it up.  Ayuh.  

Michael suggested a hike on the day we were waiting for the part to show up, and plotted a 2.5 mile course to a local beach.  (We didn't dare drive the truck any more than absolutely necessary.)  I packed apples and nuts and some water in a backpack, and we took off.  The sun was intermittent, and once we got off the main highway the roads were pretty.  Michael ducked off the road into an unmarked side path to go pee at one point, and came back with "You guys better come take a look at this!"

"This" was the stuff of fairy tales.  Mossy carpet for a path, ferns, dappled sunlight, and leprechauns lurking in the trees.  We took it, despite not knowing where it ended up or how much it would add to the hike.  We wound through a forest of huge old trees, a salt marsh, an apple orchard gone wild, and ended up on a crashing rock-lined beach, the same one we'd intended to get to via the road.  We left before we wanted to, as the snacks were running out, the path home was long, and the sun was setting and temps dropping.  We stopped long enough to fill the backpack with wild apples, got entirely fed up with eating said apples, and managed to get home just before dark.  An awesome day.  

The next day we had to pick up the truck, but it also happened to be our 15th anniversary.  We left the boys in the camper for a couple hours while we wandered through a huge old/rare book store that was in a converted home and super well organized, and then sat at the counter at a local restaurant for a cup of excellent chowdah.  Short but perfect.  

This trip is so full of delight and growth and pain and humor and connection and overwhelm that I have no real way to describe it.  There's a faint rhythm to it, but no real marking of days.  There are needs, there are jobs, there are realizations, there are breakdowns.  Pain seen, but not fixed.  Hearts hurting, bandaids shared.  Conversations that rip me open, others that pour in the oil and wine.   Days of physical labor and exhaustion that feel like the best workout ever, and I can't wait to wake up and do it again.  It feels like I'm truly living in a way I never have, choosing every morning what Can We Do today, and then reaching for it, together.  Sometimes actually getting it, often not.  There IS joy in the journey.  I'll take it, messy bits and all.  

Onward. 

My name is Edmund

My name is Edmund. I am a 4-year-old tuxedo cat. Me, my sister, and 4 tall-ones live in a small moving-home. But I didn't always live in a moving-home. A lot of feedings ago we lived at a home by a big water with lots of tall greens with moving prey to eat! It was nice to live there. I even fell in the water two times! Then the tall-ones got the moving-home and we had to go in it for a long time and it rattled around. After a long time the bumping stopped. A couple feedings later we got to go outside and it was a whole different place, and a big hill with trees on it, and even lots of small prey to chase and eat!

There were two other cats there too but one of them didn't like to play with us. We sometimes got to eat bits of the tall-ones food after they were done eating.

A little bit before we got back in the moving-home and went somewhere else the second cat disappeared in a sleeping box. We always had to stay inside after our darktime food because of the coyotes.

Then we appeared at a place that had only one home and was full of trees and had a big water next to it!

We got to run around as much as we wanted and play in the greens. The next place was a small home that had three dogs in it!

While we were there the tall-ones dug a big pit full of water that we couldn't go into. That place had lots of bushes to hide in and small trees to climb! Sometimes the dogs chased us, but they had to stop at the edge of the home-grass. The homes next to that one also had dogs that could only go in a circle around a stick. I liked to sit at the edge of the string and watch them!

Very soon before we left the tall-ones made a platform out of dead trees, with more dead trees sticking out of it.

Then we went to a place that had no trees! Just homes that we couldn't go into. We got to go outside a lot there, but the tall-ones were gone a lot of the time. Sometimes I caught mice and other prey. And then for four feedings there were lots of lights and very loud noises, that were so loud my sister hid! But she came back when the noises stopped. In the grass behind the house there was something that was always making it rain. There weren't any other cats there that we could play with, just birds and prey.

Then there was a similar place, but it had a lot more grass. We were allowed out there, and there were also some dogs, and another cat. I even caught a piece of long-eared prey, but when I wasn't looking it disappeared. I think the tall-ones took it.

Then we went back into the moving-home, and when we got out we were at a place that had lots of other moving-homes. There were lots of other cats and dogs there but they were all inside or on strings held by other tall-ones! We couldn't go out very much, and after a while the tall-ones put us on the same strings and didn't let us outside without them holding the strings. Neither of us liked it at all and Sparrow even got out of it and hid several times! Once when I was in the moving-home I could hear flying-prey in the see-through room!

After a while, the tall-ones started letting us out a little after light-time and at dark time without the strings on. Some of the other tall-ones there had a cat in a tiny home of its own! There was a big open green close to our moving-home that had huge things that were like the deer at the river-home, but we weren't allowed in the place they were in. We also weren't allowed in the other moving-homes.

Then we left and went to somewhere that we weren't allowed out at all, and had lots of noises, and other moving-homes that looked different. Then we went to a place like the one with lots of other moving-homes, but it had a lake and we were allowed to go out without a string! We got to follow the tall ones on walks. Sometimes we went really far from home, and I didn't know where we were. I liked that place a lot! One time the tall-ones tried to get me on a big water-float, but I didn't want to.

Also, we went back to the river home for a little bit, but we weren't allowed in our old home. That was very confusing. 

I'm really happy that we got the moving-home and started living in it and moving around, and I enjoy exploring new places!

The End

happy. humbling. holland.

When we finally pulled away from Addison, my heart was in tatters but it was time to go.  We left Mom waving in the yard, and thru a haze of tears I started looking up possible campsites for the night, as we’d not made any reservations anywhere.  By the time we hit the quarry on I94, I got someone to pick up the phone at a campground near the Indiana Dunes, and felt the knot in my stomach begin to settle.  We had a destination.

This wandering thing has put an interesting twist on my routine-loving heart.  I like order, simplicity, and thinking ahead so I can plan the most efficient way to get it done … leaving me more time to relax.  I grew on up travel of all sorts, from visiting the backcountry of Peru and Bolivia by bus and open truck, to road tripping across the US curled up on a home-rigged platform in the back of my folk’s 4-cylinder minivan, tents and camping gear stowed underneath me.  Any trip that was not designated as a sight-seeing one was executed in the most direct manner possible.  Stops were as short and infrequent as we could manage, and when we were young they were bypassed entirely if it was just one of us kids needing to pee, we had a can for that in the back.  Spending time at the destination was the goal, not meandering our way there.  We always knew who and what was waiting at the other end.

This trip has very little of that going on, though we sometimes know who and what are at the next stop.  That’s good for my detail-loving side, as it lets me plan enough to get the necessary stuff out of the way whenever there’s a chance.  Phone calls, laundry, blogging, photo processing, grocery shopping, schooling, camper organizing (Fynn keeps collecting things, and we can’t seem to turn down books … ), and trying to plot a somewhat logical course that keeps us from spending a bajillion bucks on gas.  I like things planned.

So that knot in my heart when we left Addison wasn’t just saying goodbye to my folks for I-don’t-know-how-long, it was also the unease over finding a place to spend the night that wasn’t a truck stop or a rest area, which don’t generally lead to restful sleep.  I’m slowly learning to roll with it a little better though, and as we just got a 2nd battery hooked up to the camper we have more ability to spend a night or two not hooked up to anything, which really increases our options.  It widens the “what’s next” pool hugely, and that helps me a lot.

So back to heading towards the Dunes … we found our site, settled in, and took a deep breath.  Just the 4 of us again, wheee!  We took a day to go to the beach, and after finding it crowded and hot we climbed up some dunes and the boys played The Game (something Douglas invented while we were in Chicago, involving found-object-fortress-building and warfare, medieval style) while I vegged in the shade and watched people and waves, two of my favorite past times.  One more night and I was almost starting to relax … but it was time to go.  We were working against the deadline of Michael starting a Sol LeWitt installation job in New Haven CT on August 3rd, something we committed to back when we were still in TN.  So we wanted to fit in some work that logically fell in between Chicago and CT.  A lot of ground, and only 10 days available between the two. 

Our next stop was at Gary and Peggy Nielsen’s, who call Holland Michigan home, and Peggy just happens to be the sister of John Kaiser, whose cupola we had just built.  She’d contacted me several months before with a lovely email, and the mention of a couple projects that they’d like to have done if we had the time.  So we pulled into their gloriously double-wide driveway on Saturday evening, and did a quick setup before being taken out for a yummy dinner.  Their kids are all grown and the grandkids are multiplying rapidly (Mark! Abby! xoxo), so they fill their “free” time with work in Moldova with university students via Intervarsity and their own organization called Second Fiddle Ministries.  They don’t exactly act retired, and seem to be masters of giving people wings and hope.

The two projects offered were some calligraphy on the dining room wall, and a fountain/waterfall feature in the middle of one of Peggy’s lovely gardens.  We opted to start with the waterfall, and were given some guidelines as to how it should sound, an idea of the desired height, and some images of styles that they were drawn to.  We did some measuring, some thinking, and a bit of sketching.  Then we just kind of dove in … it seems hard to do anything else when you’re working with stone. 

A trip to Home Depot netted us a small pond liner that we buried to ground level to act as our water source, and it also had three built in stands for water plants, which we thought worked well as a sturdy base to build on.  In order to bury it, we had to remove a few plants.  A very few actually, as Peggy’s hosta plants were the most humongous ones I’ve ever seen, and I think I measured the one we took out at 5’ in diameter.  It was remarkably easy digging, given that they live just a couple miles from the shore of lake Michigan, so the soil there is still very sandy.  We hoped to leave the other plants around the structure, so kept what we removed to a bare minimum, and did our best not to trample too much getting in and out.

Next, we drove most of the way over to Grand Rapids in Matilda, on a very hot day, to visit the closest stoneyard we could find.  Given that it was an hour away, we thought we better get everything we needed in one trip, and knew we needed to keep it economical.  We’d brought the pond liner along for size, and basically started building up a possible fountain structure right in the middle of the stone piles, in order to know what to buy.  The boys found the only shade on the property, invented a few games, got hot and bothered, and started raiding the water cooler in the office.  We kept hauling and building and rearranging and weighing our piles, sweating buckets in the sun.  After something like 3 hours, we threw in a few more stones for good measure, tallied up our scribbled sheet of weights and stone types, and trudged into the office.

The man who’d helped us at first was as shy as they come, and had long ago stopped offering help, seeing that we were going to be awhile.  His brother in the office was a bit chattier, and gladly accepted our tally sheet in lieu of weighing anything themselves, and so we scooted back to Gary and Peggy’s as fast as possible, knowing we were supposed to be ready to be taken out on a boat in Lake Michigan after dinner that night by one of their neighbors, named Doug. 

We decimated Peggy’s taco bar, grabbed suits and life jackets for the boys (who’d been promised a swim) and headed for the marina.  Parking Matilda in the private hangar there for members was a bit of a hoot, she was certainly the oldest matron in the place, as well as the only one with a backend full of 900+ pounds of rock.  There were still a good 2 hours till sunset, and the plan was to tour Holland’s Lake Macatawa a bit, and then head out into Lake Michigan to catch the last rays of the day.

We saw all kinds of fancy homes, and then headed out towards the sun.  Felt a familiar pang when watching all the folks on the end of the piers, as they watched us heading out … guilty pleasure at being the one On the boat this time, rather than watching from shore.  Guilty as I’d envied the boat dwellers more times than I could remember, but still enjoying it to the hilt.  The boys jumped in after awhile, got nicely chilled, and were wrapped in multiple towels when they climbed back in after a bit of swimming.  First though, Douglas was sent out maybe 50 yards from the boat to retrieve something we saw floating there, as I thought it might be a good choice for our Michigan memento … we’ve started collecting some small natural object from every place we visit, with the intention of building it into our house when we get to that part of the plan.  After hauling in what turned out to be a little piece of broken mast/driftwood, we had a good laugh … stuck to it was a tiny “made in China” sticker!  It obviously had just adhered to it in the water somehow, but made it rather amusing nonetheless. 

We sucked in every last drop of the sun, doing nothing but watch its dive towards the horizon, reveling in the colors, the quiet, and the peace of lapping water and no other agenda but enjoying the beauty.  We all needed it I think.  A truly perfect evening.

The next morning we unloaded stones, set the boys to scrubbing and washing them, and started stacking.  Many configurations later, we felt like we had a good tower going, and started running the pump hose up the back side so we could test the waterflow.  It turned out to be way too strong, tending to splatter well beyond the perimeter of our little 3 foot pond.  We called it quits for the night, to “think on it”, and tore it down and started over the next morning.  Another day of building and playing got us to a better solution, which included drilling through one rock to make the flow come up underneath a capstone and be diffused a bit that way.  We chose the haphazard pile approach, wanting to make it produce a variety of sounds, be visible over the hostas and lilies in the summer, and look good for a full 220 degrees of viewing angle given its mid-garden placement.   

The next day we fiddled a lot with stones to hide the hose up the back, filled in some corners with marine foam just to make sure things weren’t going to shift around in a Michigan winter, and somewhere late in the process heard a little crack/click sound that we managed to write off as the basin doing a little settling.  Of course that’s all it was.  We put the finishing touches on the edging and blending into the surrounding plants, and had the big sound test, which gave Gary a sound close enough to what he wanted to declare it “Right on!”.  We went to bed tired, about 70% happy with what we’d accomplished, and planning to pull out by noon the next day ... Friday morning.  CT minus 3 days.  I wanted to be happier about it, but felt it wasn’t quite up to par.  Something was just a bit off. 

You probably saw this coming a mile away, but the next morning I checked out the fountain on my way into the house, and my heart sank to my toes.  The water level had dropped significantly overnight, and the fountain hadn’t even been running.  Aaaargh!  We broke the news to Gary and Peggy over breakfast, and said we’d stay to fix it.  Somehow.  They were incredibly gracious about it, and said we were welcome to come back some other time and work it over, but we really wanted to avoid having that big question mark hanging over our heads.  Having raised 6 kids, they are masters of knowing when to hold ‘em, and when to fold ‘em, when to walk away, and when to run … they have patience, insight, steadiness, and humor in spades, as well as a quiet undercurrent of love that keeps them humming along side by side, each doing what they do best. 

Given that the pile was already adhered together, we couldn’t exactly lift 900 lbs to find and fix what we now knew must be a crack in the basin.  Sand doesn’t support things the same way dirt does, and we hadn’t accounted for that.  Praying and plotting netted us the plan to fill the basin up with concrete to the three little stands, on which we’d rested the biggest base stone.  We ran to Home Depot again, found an angel in the concrete aisle who knew the properties of every single one of the 20 types they had, told us which one to get (not the one we’d already lugged onto the cart) and explained how it wouldn’t completely solve our problem, but would help it significantly.

Back at the house we dismantled all the stones around the base, and just for kicks I lay down on my side and reached back under the base stone and traced where it met the plastic with my fingertips.  I couldn’t reach it all, but just as I came to the end of what I could touch, I found the very edge of a tiny crack.  Score!!  Having been told that concrete won’t really adhere to plastic, Michael grabbed the boys’ fimo collection, and I went to work sealing as much of the perimeter of that stone/base junction as I could, willing my claustrophobia to stay away.  Buried up to my shoulder under a pile of stone, with my face inches from it and my arm contorted crazily, I wasn’t terribly comfortable.  It worked much better to keep my eyes closed.  Funny, that’s true for a lot of things. 

Gary and Peggy packed for a weekend away with friends (planned long before), while we used contractor bags with the corners cut off as giant frosting tubes, squeezing mixed cement down into the three small openings we had into the pond area underneath our base stone.  It took all four of us, and the boys really pulled their weight.  A bit of a race against the clock. 

We filled up to the base stone, and then let it start to set while we cleaned up everything.  Once it was getting stiff, we scooped out a hollow in the back section where the pump was to rest, hoping to leave enough volume of water in the basin to keep up with the pump.  We knew it was going to be really close.  We waved Gary and Peggy off on their trip, and then put back all the surrounding stones, spread more pebbles, and took some final pictures in a lovely Friday night sunset, praying that it would be a workable fountain once the concrete cured.  We couldn’t stay around to find out.  Gary promised that he’d give us a full report once they got back home, and word is that it works well and sounds good, though the water flow is a wee bit lower than before.  A relief, though a bit of regret. 

We learn something every time, that’s for sure.  Not just about stone and construction and how to work together, but about human nature and people and hearts and lives and the brokenness and beauty that is in every single person we meet.  Some triumphantly flying, some humming, some limping, but all moving forward.  All loved.  All with something to teach us, show us, or shower on us.  Willing to let us in, trust us, and share whatever they have.  Gary and Peggy were no exception, and gave us far more than they likely realize.  Beautiful, humbling, and loved, they are … thanks you two, for everything!