I know I’ve mentioned living in a small apartment above a barn before—sometimes bragging and sometimes complaining. But there is a reason that it keeps coming up.
Tonight, as Jed and I were walking down a frozen, icy dirt road from his parents’ farm to our place, I told Jed that I really didn’t want it to snow again. We’ve had two big snowstorms already this January, which equals three snow days. Tomorrow’s already been canceled in anticipation of the blizzard of the year. Snow days should be exciting for a teacher, as it should be for students. A surprise vacation day!
Dropping temperatures, snowdrifts, icy roads, a practically un-insulated apartment above an equally un-insulated barn, no central heating, pipes freezing. This winter has been a challenge. I’ve never lived in a place so tied to the environment. When it snows, I park my car almost a third of a mile from where we live because it doesn’t get plowed down to the barn. We hike a distance to Jed’s parents in the snow because there is no getting in and out any other way. But until the snowplow comes, all normalcy stops.
As a people, we have mostly been able to separate ourselves from Mother Nature with our controlled temperatures and cars with heated-seats and A/C, living in town with roads promptly plowed and a grocery store right down the street. Convenience.
Living in our home has been an eye-opener to how dependent I am to modern conveniences.
Jed and I want to live simply: to become more self-reliant and be better stewards of the gifts we’ve been given. At present, we do live simply—to an extent. And I begin to feel the rhythm of Mother Nature around me—as I tip-toe across a freezing wood floor in the morning hours or sweat while I sleep with not even a sheet over me in summer’s heat. Mother Nature’s alive and vibrant. We are the ones that choose to shut her out, sometimes barely noticing her presence. In spite of the “hardships” I feel myself finding as I stop complaining and just listen.
No comments:
Post a Comment