A Year in Marine

Hello, friend. Thank you for joining me here!

I started this blog just over a year ago to document our move from the NYC area to rural Minnesota. This is my 21st entry! What a fast slow time. When I started writing, I thought I’d be telling you all about the renovations on our 1880s farmhouse—very Chip and Joanna. It turned out that writing to you excavated a lot more of my own interior’s renovations. I have heard people, friends in fact, disparage blogs for doing exactly that. I remember a woman I know saying something like, “I don’t want to hear about your childhood trauma, I just want your recipe for tiramisu!!” Of course, I had already started this project when she said that, and I wanted to blend right into the background. But, truth be told, once you start writing (or drawing or painting or engaging in any creative endeavor), the story kind of writes you. Sure, you go in with an idea of what you want to share, but sometimes doors open in your head and heart and words exit unbidden. It is what it is, your story. And I guess if you wanted straight up renovation talk, you’d chat up Bob Villa. I see now that my transition over the past year has really been about the experience of making a dramatic life change, not just a dramatic house change. In creating a new life from the ground up—especially during a pandemic—I unearthed as much inside myself as I did around myself. However, I have also tried to use this space to keep track of what we are doing in our farmhouse and on the land. I thought it would be fun, on this first anniversary, to summarize our progress thus far. I can’t promise the absence of self-analysis or emotional connections—I am, after all, me. But I do think a little time spent taking stock of our accomplishments is just what I need to keep on keepin' on. So: here is a highly incomplete list of what we have done since moving to our ramshackle Victorian—including a few surprises. It has been quite a year!

1. Electricity! We had an extremely dangerous, partially fallen power line replaced and trenched underground from the street to the garage, installing a more powerful panel while we were at it. New lines were then run from the garage to the main house basement. Electricity was also put into the attic, with outlets and hardwired lights added in all upstairs rooms. Prior to that, there were only pull chain overheads and outlets in *one* second floor room. It felt grand to remove the snake pit of extension cords that lined the hallway once we finally got power throughout the second floor. Getting the electricity up there was no piece of cake, and both we and our electricians have a little PTSD from the battle (see my previous entry, ‘True Grit’ for all the ugly details). Things were slightly easier on the first floor, where new lines were run to the living room, library and bathroom. And, we had another panel put into the garage to run a generator for emergencies. I’ll be honest, when I consider how much we have paid our electrician, it makes me seriously reconsider my career choices. The trades are where it’s at when everything else stops. We handed over even more of our savings last month, when Dan and his team brought power to the gutted kitchen and breakfast nook/mudroom addition. In future, they will be back to complete the dining room and parlor. Having ample, safe, modernized electricity installed is not a flashy, fun decor choice. It’s a messy, under-appreciated privilege. If you visit, you won’t notice how much work has gone into making the Nespresso turn on, but I will never forget what a long road it has been to get this house up to current standards. See what I did there? Heehee.

2. Water! You guys. One year ago we had no way to bathe. We warmed old milk jugs filled with water in the sun and poured them over ourselves on the back walkway, alternating with squirts of Doctor Bonner’s. It’s easy to forget this—perhaps because I want to! One year ago, we also had no indoor way to wash dishes. I remember my mom coming over and helping me use a hose and big plastic bins to wash pots and pans camp style. Our water went out completely for a time when the pump in our well died, right as the movers showed up. That was lovely. Good thing we were already stocked up on hand sanitizer due to Covid. The fancy toilet I’d purchased was like this ne’er-do-well rogue, sometimes in its right place, sometimes missing for days at a time. David installed and uninstalled that thing at least five times to work on the floor and everything underneath. I do not want to talk about how we managed. Just know that, as a person who does not go camping—on purpose—I had A LOT of feelings about the situation. Thank goodness David had arrived ahead of me and Finley and had already had our plumber replace all the first floor pipes—a lengthy task that meant no water for a few weeks. David pulled up floors and plumber Matt put in all new copper to replace the old (partially LEAD!!!!) pipes. In the basement, Matt also installed a hybrid water heater and a whole house filtration system to remove contaminants like arsenic. Lead and arsenic…pretty GD important. But again, will you see all the work and time spent on those upgrades if you come here and turn on the tap? I hope not; that would be weird. The point is, there have been so many changes that will not really show, but they were absolutely vital to our health and safety. You might notice that our clothes are relatively clean as we did also install a brand new washer and dryer. Neither was present when we bought the place, just a clothesline outside. And speaking of cleanliness, a few weeks after getting here last fall I suggested that we set up the torn out tub as an outdoor bath. It’s a 3/4 sized cast iron number that we’d decided we wanted to replace with a large shower. Somehow, David had gotten it out of the bathroom by himself(!!), and it was sitting on the patio like a reno refugee. He put it up on blocks at a slight angle so it would drain correctly, and we used it till temps dropped below freezing. Our shower became usable about two weeks after that. My apologies to anyone we may have offended with our “splash bath” level of clean during the in-between. We did, however, have a plastic utility sink installed in the gutted kitchen space soon after the move. Washing dishes outside got old fast. The utility sink is lower than a normal sink, so you have to stoop a bit while sudsing, but it is waaaay better than using the hose. Paper plates have been a real help, despite their environmental impact, for which I feel deep shame. But the utility sink also allowed me to wash my and Finley’s hair a few times in a pinch; it even has a sprayer option on the nozzle. Though she barely fit, I also let Finley sit in a small, plastic tub to soak. Her hair was fresh from the sink wash and held up in a little towel turban. She sloshed around, spilling onto the plywood in the down-to-the-studs kitchen, and declared it her favorite tub ever. The actual bathroom is 85% done now, with only a couple of aesthetic details to go, and it’s easy to take it for granted. We still have the temporary kitchen sink, but the gorgeous, porcelain farmhouse sink is in the garage with hopes of installation before Christmas. Please god. Santa: if you’re listening, all I want is a kitchen. I swear I’ve been good!!

3. Trees! Here’s something else you might not notice on a visit to the farm: the change in the trees. As I mentioned, we had a dangerous downed electrical wire that was immediately addressed when David arrived. That wire was felled by a partially collapsed tree, the victim of a thunderstorm no doubt. In addition to that tree, we found many more that were dead, broken, unhealthy, or growing in places where they were a danger to the house and/or outbuildings. It was clear that no one had done any maintenance on the trees for a very long time. The clean up was a huge undertaking, so we brought in a local company who did a great job. They were here for two long, loud days and addressed the worst of the issues, though it’s clear we will have to employ them annually. It was expensive, but at least nothing will fall on the house. We have had a number of storms in the past year and the wind really kicks up here—something about the lay of our land—so it’s a good thing that we addressed the issue ASAP. The tree company also thinned out the big lilac patch that lines the front of our property and buffers us from the road. The strategic trimming got more light to the healthiest bushes and they did flower, although all too briefly, in the spring. Again, those old lilacs are going to need additional work for a few years to return to optimal health, but we got a good start. The best thing the tree company did, as far as Finley was concerned, was to install a rope swing on the massive Sugar Maple tree, located outside her bedroom window. That swing was a small but important part of the journey of making this place hers. Another step toward that end was selecting and planting new trees. All three of us went to the plant nursery up the road last fall and then again this spring to choose new specimens. Our priority was growing food, and we dreamed of an orchard to put a dent in our expensive apple habit. We first added Honeycrisp and SnowSweet, two cold-hardy varieties developed by the University of Minnesota. Thrillingly, by the end of this summer, the little Honeycrisp had 18 apples on its slim branches. Pretty exciting for that much fruit to develop in the first year! In May, we got carried away and added four more apple trees and two pear, along with a crabapple and pink hydrangea. The crabapple got fireblight and will have to be replaced, but the others are doing well. David constructed a large electrical fence to enclose our mini fruit orchard and the deer have stayed out. We also have been working on removing invasive species including Buckthorn, Japanese Knotweed, and Black Locust. In doing so, we discovered old Paradise Apple trees and some native American plum. We took away what was in the way and found the very thing we wanted. Good lesson, that. I have many more dream trees to add as the years extend before us. The selection and planting of trees on our own land is honestly one of the happiest activities of my life. It is a simple, soulful joy. Good thing we have a lot of acres; so much possibility!

4. Food! I will get back to inside accomplishments soon, but while we are orchard adjacent, I must mention my small forays into gardening. All told, I have managed to not kill 4 tomato plants, 2 peppers, and about a dozen different herbs. The three new blueberry bushes we planted are still alive, but I hope they’ll bear more fruit next year. My potato patch took the greatest effort among my garden endeavors. Fresh, new potatoes are unbelievably delicious—as different from store bought as commercial tomatoes are from farmer’s Heirlooms. Besides the spuds we enjoyed right out of the ground, we have a few pounds curing in the basement to be stored long term. Having dipped my toe in, I now want to grow all the food. David tapped two of our maple trees in early spring and wound up with about two dozen jars of delicious syrup. He will expand his production next year, and we have fantasies of raising bees someday, too. We have developed some really cool relationships with local farmers here. I feel like several people we buy food from are friends in the making. We have a chicken guy down the road, a pasture raised meat purveyor two towns over, a baker/artist mother-daughter duo less than five miles away, and many veggie experts that came to the multiple markets we attended religiously all summer. I have a girl crush on the mama-farmer from whom we got our weekly CSA box. She hand-wrote these gorgeous newsletters filled with illustrations, poetry, recipes and anecdotes that came with each box. I do not exaggerate when I say it has created a hole in my life to have lost those weekly touchstones as fall has begun. She inspired me, not to mention helped me feed my family with her luscious harvest. Next year’s goal, with the encouragement of all these awesome growers, is building raised beds here on our farm…that is, as long as Santa delivers a kitchen in which to cook the results. I need more room and some dang counter space if we are going to efficiently manage a big garden of our own. Not only do I yearn to enjoy salads picked right outside my door, but I want to get good at making our produce last. In August, I tried my hand at canning for the first time ever. I made a few mistakes, but I have 6 big jars of whole tomatoes in the pantry. I wrote down a lot of notes so that things will go more smoothly next time. I was quite successful with my pesto making. I grew three types of basil and purchased more from locals. I used different nuts and a combination of recipes, some with cheese, some without. All told, I have maybe eight containers in the freezer. Round about December, that herb drenched pasta will taste like the best of summer. Perhaps I’ll put some on Santa’s plate to sweeten the deal…

5. Floors! OK, back inside, this house still has its original, maple hardwood floors in most rooms. Downstairs they are 3/4” thick and upstairs 3/8”. They did this back in the day to save money as the private rooms would see less traffic, and the thinner wood cost less. All the floors looked awful when we got here: dark, dirty, spotted and scratched. Several rooms had wood holding the smell of cat pee, especially the living room with its layers of orange shag carpet, nasty rug pad and linoleum floorcloth covering the original planks. So far, we have had the floors in two hallways and five rooms refinished. There are two downstairs rooms still to go, along with the installation of brand new hardwood in the kitchen and porch addition. That will be yellow birch, which is the closest color match to the old maple, (new maple would be too pale). It will be a major upgrade for the kitchen, where David pulled up 3 inches of different linoleum flooring that was stuck together, layer upon dirty layer. We still need to figure out flooring for the future upstairs bathroom. The downstairs bath is now tile, installed after David yanked out the 1960s vinyl and rebuilt the floor from the joists up. But upstairs, tile may add too much weight for the current framing. We shall see. However, the floors are more than halfway done, with the new birch coming soon. 

6. Walls! Before Finley and I even got here, I insisted that the bedrooms be painted. We needed to be able to set up our beds ASAP and to allow our girl to settle into her new room right away. David met a local painter at the one restaurant in our little town where they did take-out during Covid. While David did demo downstairs, the painter, Jason, worked on the bedrooms and my office before Finley and I got here, which was a godsend. Later, he also removed the (very stubborn) wallpaper in the living room, treated the rough plaster, skim-coated, and painted the walls. He removed wallpaper in the upstairs hallway and stairwell, but then things stalled. Once it got colder and Covid made us all lock down again, he stopped coming. We aren’t really ready to paint more, though the bathroom is close. It feels like two different houses in some ways: the dingy wallpapered rooms, and the freshly painted rooms. I made the (some would say) heretical decision to paint all the trim in the house white. Upstairs, the millwork was already painted, and there was no way we were going to strip it all and refinish. Ain’t nobody got time for that. Downstairs, the wood is mostly covered in paste wax, now cracked and poorly aged. It looks baaaad. The difference in feel of the living room, where there is new, pale gray wall paint (Benjamin Moore “Marilyn’s Dress”) and satin finish white trim, is astonishing. It is so clean and light! I cannot wait to transform the other downstairs rooms in the same way, but there is a domino effect of priorities that keep us from charging full steam ahead. All attention must stay on the dang kitchen, which doesn’t even have completed walls yet to paint. Even after that, though, there is an order to the work in each upcoming room: address the structural issues, upgrade the electricity, rehab the walls/ceiling/trim, refinish the floors. I am not a patient person, but there is no skipping steps with this endeavor. All told, I would say we are just under halfway there on walls. 

7. Pests! This one has been a challenge. You name the critter, we’ve probably encountered it. We basically had a mouse infestation when we moved in last year. It took consistent, persistent steps to change that. We used professionals to set up a multilayered approach, and it eventually succeeded, but the process was lengthy. We are talking full on mouse apartment complexes in our walls, friend. There were so many openings in the foundation of the house it must’ve lured ‘em like Swiss cheese. I had several traumatic encounters, (check out the harrowing details in my previous post, “Mouse House”), and I do live in some fear that they will return; please pray for me. One pest that I think we have taken care of for good, please god, is bats. A protected species in Minnesota, bats must be carefully uninvited. We endured a loooong process of remediation, exclusion and then clean out. These different steps can only be taken at certain times of year due to the bat breeding season. That was an education. I am happy to report that our house seems to be bat free, and that the attic, which was filled with hundreds of pounds (!!!) of guano, is now filled only with new insulation. We still go through bouts with hornets, flies and mosquitoes, especially because there is so much more going in and out of the house due to renovations, and doors do get left open. No insect bothers me remotely as much as the mice did, with one major exception: ticks. (If you want the gory details on that relationship, read my entry entitled, “Abundance.”) To sum it up, there is no way to eradicate ticks when you live in the country in Minnesota. Those little creeps haunted me for months this summer, and probably will again next year. I will double down on the bug spray, but my quest for a tick-free world will likely never end.

8. Porch! Somehow, the house project that was the biggest wasn’t even on our radar a year ago. (You can read about how it unfolded in my piece, “In Addition.”) The net-net is that we went from a simple rebuild of our falling down back porch to a full-on, big-ass, fancy-pants Entry/Mudroom/Breakfast Nook extravaganza. It has vaulted ceilings, FIVE new windows—including a gorgeous 6 footer—and a beautiful, solid wood back door. It will also sport half-walls topped by turned columns to divide the space, a cozy electric fireplace, a corner banquet, and some rad, antique light fixtures. It will probably be my favorite room. Good thing, too, since it has taken up so much time and money and was not even on our original, lengthy To-Do List. When you live somewhere for a while, it does tell you what it needs—or, at least, what you need in order to thrive there. We enter this house from the back door, and there was no proper welcome. It felt sad. That old porch was held up by a car jack, literally! And it opened right into the teeny kitchen. I can only imagine how awfully cramped it would have felt to devote precious food prep space to winter gear and farm footwear. The new construction gives us a place to land, both literally, with snow boots and coats, and psychically, with space to transition from the world outside into our world together. The larger part of the room is really devoted to family. Most meals will be shared there, tucked in a cozy corner, looking out that massive window onto our land. I can already feel the memories that will be made there, and I am glad the new room was dreamed into existence. 

9. Comfort! They say true wealth is climate control—never having to be too hot, nor too cold. If so, our stock is rising. Thank goodness we decided to install air conditioning way back before the movers arrived. The house had a relatively new furnace, so adding AC was a simple affair because the ductwork was already in place. Having now lived through a whole year here, I can report that though having heat is non-negotiable, having the ability to cool and dry the air is pretty important. Even in Minnesota, climate change means we have stretches of very hot days. And the humidity is no joke. Unfortunately, because there are not multiple zones, the upper level is harder to both heat and cool. As with the new porch, we may eventually add a mini-split to assist. As for warmth, David added in-floor heat to the previously unheated bathroom. At first I thought this unnecessary, but it sure is nice to have! It’s hard enough to have to go all the way downstairs in the middle of the night in the middle of winter to use the bathroom. If it was freezing in there, it would add insult to injury. David has also been doing a tremendous amount of research and work on insulation and vapor barriers. I’m not going to pretend like I know anything on those topics, but he has practically earned a degree on them from the university of YouTube. Another one of those aspects of renovation you will never see, it’s pretty important to have the right materials and application for your particular house and micro-climate in order to keep all that expensive heat and air conditioning inside. Likewise, there is so much to be done in order to keep water from damaging a home. That really was not addressed by previous owners, plus times and strategies have changed. So, we are playing catch up on keeping water out. We have some walls with water damage and areas with mold—though not the deadly kind. We have had some flooding in the basement, mainly due to poor grading along the foundation where the basement bilco doors attach. (For a blow-by-blow battle between me and rising storm waters, go back and read my previous post, “Sweet Heart.”) Just last week, we finally had someone come with a big tractor to help us rip out the last of the plantings right around the house and re-grade the dirt. We have put a layer of wood chips on top of the soil to discourage the plants from regrowth, as they create a lovely home for rodents and snakes, conveniently located (for them!) right next to the basement windows. When we got here, our pest control tech said that until we got rid of all the plantings that were consuming the foundation of the house, we’d be fighting a losing battle against rodents. So too with the water: we had to grade the land so that rain will flow away from the house. I am relieved to have this done at last. We are well on our way to a consistently dry and temperate interior. 

10. Bathroom! I’ve mentioned a few changes above, but the bathroom deserves a bit more explanation. It was so ugly, friend. The sellers did not even include a photo of it when they listed the property, and it’s the only bathroom in the house!! You would think they would have to show it, right? Well, they got some good advice because it seriously brought down the average. The old bathroom was really funky, in a bad way. Brown on brown was the theme. It was also extremely small. Beside the aforementioned mini-tub, there was a bitty sink vanity and a squat toilet tucked between, with only a couple inches on either side. We could not change the envelope, so designing a new, more functional space was a challenge. We opted for a walk in shower, separated only by a single piece of glass which extends 2/3 of the way across the space. Since the shower has no door, that in-floor radiant heat is vital to keep things from feeling drafty when you are wet. At the same time, because it it a moist space, David installed an exhaust fan and a new window in the shower. We couldn’t do much about the lack of space, so we stayed with a round toilet and small sink, but both are steep upgrades. For storage we added a narrow in-wall medicine cabinet over the vanity and a tall, thin cabinet behind the door. The shower walls have white subway tile that reminds us of NYC, and small, white hexagon tile on the floor. The floor of the bathroom was finished in a patterned, encaustic tile in shades of icy blue and pale gray. David put up moisture resistant wainscoting and a chair rail 2/3rds of the way up the walls, along with trim around the door and shower stall that echos the existing millwork of the house. That will be painted in our trusty Benjamin Moore Satin finish “Chantilly Lace,” and the walls finished with a light gray to match the floor tile. I have artwork ready to hang as soon as the walls are done. It’s almost 100% there, but the kitchen and porch work means the bathroom can wait for finishing touches. But, even without those last details done, it is a cheerful and pleasing little room, and it works. That is a HUGE change from the days only a year ago when we were using milk jugs to bathe.

11. Kitchen! OK, maybe I’ve given the kitchen progress short shrift? It was a dank, dark cave of a room with faux brick wallpaper, 1960s appliances, a keg-sized water heater, heavy and awkward cabinetry, oddly placed windows and red chiffon ruffle curtains. It has existed as a gutted hole for the past year, but changes have occurred. After pulling up the multiple layers of flooring, David spent a great deal of time cleaning and prepping the crawl space below the joists. There is a cistern down there, about 5 feet deep and 3 feet wide. He has dreams of a root cellar or wine cave. But for now, he’s built a trap door and with wooden steps leading down to the crawl space and cistern. In addition, David framed for new windows and a gracious opening to the added porch room. When the wall was busted through and light spilled into the kitchen from the picture window on the porch, it was definitely a hallelujah moment. Now that the new electrical has finally gone in, we are scheduled for insulation install next week. Drywall will also happen then, followed by the new floors. Once those are in, we will begin placing and retrofitting the various furniture pieces we have gathered to be our “cabinets.” (To read more on how the choice of using found furniture rather than traditional cabinetry evolved, read my previous post, “Patchwork.”) The glorious, gleaming, newly purchased appliances are sitting on the porch, waiting their turn. They are much more patient than I. But they are here. It will happen. The light fixtures are in boxes, ready to light the way to our future kitchen joy. It just takes the time it takes. One step at a time. A lesson in patience. In the meantime, my next big task is to paint the various pieces that will serve as cabinets, along with the breakfast nook bench and table set. I am intimidated, but excited to start.

12. Pleasure! A year is a long time and a short time. It has not been all drudgery. Some of the changes we’ve made to the farm have been purely to bring happiness. Beyond the swing in her big maple tree, Finley got an awesome playset at the end of July. David would have loved to build it himself, but we couldn’t take his time away from the house. So, I found a great guy that had designed several models with various add-ons who came to our property and built the whole thing on-site in 6 hours! It was so satisfying to have something long hoped for finished quickly. Finley has now mastered the monkey bars, had many picnics on the little playhouse platform, and swung delightedly for hours. The playset has provided a relatively Covid-safe, outdoor space for a handful of playdates, and I know it will be a source of joy for years to come. Just outside the gate of her play area, underneath a big honeysuckle, Finley has staged a grand fairy garden. Some items have been purchased from the garden store up the road, some found on the farm and some given. There seem to be new odds and ends placed there each week. It gets overgrown and then tended, but no matter what state it is in, I feel happy when I see it. Hanging from the honeysuckle is a tinkling wind chime to bless the little land of enchantment. Not far from there is a much larger and more resonant chime that was my first Mother’s Day present on the the farm. It sounds like bells from heaven and provides the soundtrack to our land. Several paces on are two Sheperd’s hooks with birdfeeders—one that lures goldfinch, jays, cardinals, chickadees and woodpeckers, and the other for our summer hummingbirds. Underneath the feeders is a heart shaped birdbath given by dear friends. Throughout the property I’ve added 3 thrifted birdhouses with hopes of sheltering our feathered friends in winter. I was never a bird person, but I was missing out on a simple pleasure. It is heartwarming to have living things nearby. To that end, how could I forget to mention our rental of buckthorn clearing GOATS last fall?! Friend, if you missed that story, scroll back and find the entry entitled, “I Kid.” A number of readers have mentioned it as their favorite piece, and I think I understand why: it’s possible that no other tale from our first year sums up so well the insanity, hilarity and unexpected meaning of our journey better. We don’t plan on having the goats come back this year, but it could happen again. There are dreams of all sorts of our own farm animals in the future—especially if you ask our daughter. For now, however, the one addition that we are committed to is our Siberian Forest cat, Misha. He joined our family in late February as a tiny fur ball and has grown in size and personality at a rapid rate. Because the breed hails from Russia, we named him for our favorite Soviet, Mikhail Baryshnikov, nickname: Misha. Our Misha leaps almost as high as his namesake and has brought us hours of love and frustration, in equal measure. His kitten antics are always entertaining, though I look forward to the day when he calms down a bit. Kind of like the house in general, I guess? Or like life, for that matter.

That’s my list of 12 categories of accomplishments. Our 12 month reckoning. Can I just say, “Whew!”? It’s been a lot. And not enough. It’s been shocking, and icky, and breathtaking, and riotous, and maddening, and sometimes so very sweet. We have come far on a road that has many more steps to travel. I have changed. We all have. Our thresholds for discomfort have risen, but the pockets where we can hold joy have deepened, too. The color of experience is different here than in New York. Some of the stereotypes are true: the pace is slower in the country, and there is a lot less distraction—for good and bad. It’s harder to run from yourself here. I mostly like that. I still have a sometimes overwhelming sensation that I’m supposed to be somewhere, doing something. Like I’m going to be found out and reprimanded. Some of that is Covid, I know. So much simply stopped, without our permission. How could any of us feel settled these last 18 months? And though some things are eking back to normal, because our industry is one of the slowest to return, I feel like I am playing hooky on an almost daily basis. My internal engine still thinks it’s supposed to race, but there is simply nowhere to go. I do not think there will be a single moment in which I suddenly feel like this is all my real life. It won’t be sudden. I bet that, one day in the future, I’ll turn around on a random Tuesday and realize that change happened when I wasn’t looking, and that I really am here now and I don’t know when or how the last piece of this life puzzle clicked securely into home. It will just be. I bet I’ll be in a cozy chair in the corner of the addition, looking out the big window with the cat purring on my lap and the wind chime calling out to the fairies and birds. Maybe Finley will be swinging, and David will be tinkering. For sure dinner will be bubbling away on the fancy stove, nestled next to the ages old butcher block, while the dishwasher hums. I might be working on an audition for a theatre in the Twin Cities, or I might have taken up a new hobby to keep my hands busy. I don’t know all the details, but I can picture the future here. It will not be easy, getting there. There will always be so much more to do on the house and farm. I will likely still curse it all at times. And yet. I am proud of us for taking this leap of faith—for taking our life into our own hands. Actors so often wait for a yes from others: agents, casting, directors, producers, even the audience. We saw this wild possibility, and we said yes ourselves. I don’t know where I heard it first, but I love the idea that your life should be your greatest work of art. Every day is our chance to create.

Here’s to the next year of evolution, inside and out.