I've now been here nearly a year, and not that much has changed, really.
I officially own my home, which is one thing.
And I've done some renovations - mostly to the first floor.An attempt to pull down wallpaper in the living room ended up in the very, very messy removal of cheap wood paneling (hidden under the paper), cracked plaster covered in the circa 1970 cave paintings of my mother and her six brothers (covered by the panels), and approximately one hundred billion pieces of wooden lath (supporting the plaster).
Having invested countless hours and not a tiny bit of cash to have that tiny room finally rewired, sheet rocked, mudded, and painted (much of which I did myself), I've lost the heart for removing paneling. At least for time-being, the rest of the house's paneling will find itself washed and painted instead of pulled down.
Some of my painting had its social debut this June at my housewarming party, sparked by my need for two of the things I truly miss the most living in this ultra-rural region:
My girls: I'm starting to meet more local women of all ages as I spend more time here, but most of them have multiple children to take care of, so sometimes it feels like I spend all of my social time with guys, mostly young men that farm or work in the farming support fields - seed sales, etc. Don't get me wrong, I really enjoy hanging out with the boys, but there's only so much you can hear about the relative strengths of John Deere vs. Case IH tractors, the shooting, tracking, and cleaning of the latest buck, or that same story about the record-breaking number of Hooters beer towers consumed at the Sugar Beet Farm Show three years back... Sometimes you just need some time with just the girls.
Live Music: While there are things both good and bad about living in bigger cities, I really, really miss the live music pouring out of pubs and concert halls in Boston, San Diego, Minneapolis... That's why when I first planned what was to be a Ladies' Long Weekend in my Czech Town, I struck on the thought of bringing out someone for a house concert. So when Justin Roth, a wonderful guitar player and singer-songwriter, sent out an email offering House Concerts in exchange for support for his independently produced album-in-progress, I jumped at the opportunity. The event sort of grew into an everyone's invited housewarming event, and while it wasn't perfect (a number of folks who'd planned on flying out from other areas of the country couldn't make it), everyone loved Justin - and the homemade pulled pork - and we had a great time.
And now, though the prolonged Winter and chilly Spring made Summer feel as if it has just arrived, I'm beginning to think of fall. My apple trees, once full of delicate white blossoms, are now bowed by the weight of a bumper crop of small green fruit, just beginning to turn pink.I've never picked apples outside of the mother-daughter orchard outings of my childhood, and come to think of it, those were mostly just visits to large wooden, cider-scented barns filled with bins and bins of Granny Smiths, McIntosh, and a likely a hundred other varieties of apples. So here's my question... what kind of apples are growing on these grandpa-planted trees, and just how long do I have to wait before I break down and try to make my first batch of apple butter?
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