Samain                                                                                     Moving Moon

The moving moon has waned, a sliver this early. It will go dark tomorrow, the Winter Solstice. Our first full day and night here at Black Mountain Drive. Tom Crane, Rigel, Vega, Kepler and I pulled into the garage about 12:15 am this morning. We drove in over several inches of snow, so a first task will be getting the driveway clear for the moving which comes on Monday.

The three dogs slept or rested quietly the whole way. I gave them a trazidone dose at the kennel at 8:30 am yesterday. That calmed them for the first few hours and after that the buzzing of the tires and the constant motion lullabyed them. It was a surprise, but a pleasant one.

Tom drove the whole way, 14 hours in one whack, stopping only briefly for food and gas. It was a great treat to be able to watch the miles roll away.

When I left Anoka after getting the dogs yesterday morning, I crossed the Mississippi at 9 am, realizing as I did that this time I would be not crossing back over it for some months. The Mississippi was now a dividing line between my former homelands east of it and my new one west of it. An American narrative, for sure.

We passed over the Minnesota state line at approximately noon. The state sign, which reads Thank you for visiting made us laugh. Yeah, a forty year visit. But it is now over.

Kate stopped for the night in Lincoln, finding a place where she and Gertie could sleep. She’ll be getting in later this afternoon. Then, the unloading of the cargo van. New tasks in a new place but tasks which, with the exception of clearing the driveway can wait until we’re ready. We have the next several years to get settled here on Shadow Mountain.

Samain                                                                Moving Moon

As the moving moon wanes, so does our presence here. After breakfast and last minute adjustments to our various cargoes, Kate and I will go to Armstrong Kennels to pick up our pack. Armstrong has been a wonderful place for our dogs. We’re remembered there as the customers who “once had five Irish Wolfhounds.”

I feel lighter today, untethered at last from the seemingly endless stream of things and tasks related to packing and getting ready to leave. Over several months now I’ve operated well outside my comfort zone, especially so since the closing on October 31st. There is something positive about working there, but too much for too long. I look forward to getting back to the computer, back to the writing, back to letting my mind wander.

Settling in on Black Mountain Drive will, of course, take time and will not be without its own challenges, yes. But. It will have the added joy of a new life, new eco-system, more time with family. We’re ready for all of that. The upside, the 8,800 feet upside.

Samain                                                        Moving Moon

The van, a large blue and white Stevens Moving Van, parked at our driveway at 8:30 am this morning. Three packers have come and lamps, chairs, boxes, garden tools have begun to disappear from the house, swallowed up by a moving rectangle attached to a powerful V-8.

The packers are a Latino, an African-American and a white guy with a large bushy red beard. I don’t envy them their job, having done it for a week or so when I was 21. It’s heavy, steady, difficult work.

Richard is all business, roaming the house with his clipboard and his role of inventory tags. He has on a coat and a stocking hat, probably the only one on his block in West Palm Beach who owns such clothing. Everything that goes on the truck gets a tag and a note on the inventory page. This is a labor intensive process, no wonder it costs so much.

There is a finality to this day. It puts a large red Ready or Not Here We Go on our foreheads. We are ready.

This morning about 3:30 am I realized we had to take the dog crates in the cargo van. If we don’t, we’d have movers going in out of our new house, up and down the stairs to my loft, followed close by with dogs.

Samain                                                                                  Moving Moon

Both of us were up early today. That getting ready to go on a trip feeling, multiplied by a factor of a lot.

Today packers will finish up what we didn’t get done or didn’t intend to get done. Tomorrow, too, if necessary.

This is, for me, a difficult stretch. Lots of strangers, lots of activity in the house, details. Unfinished business that has to get done by a deadline. Yikes.

Samain                                                                           Moving Moon

The last Minnesota business meeting. Our last Saturday here. A week from today Tom and I will be in Colorado, presumably a bit sleepy but with three dogs in their new digs. (pun intended, though I hope the soil is too rocky for much digging.) Kate will be on the road, probably in Colorado around Sterling or Ft. Morgan.

The very last packing is to be done today. Then, preach tomorrow and finish last minute matters here. Packers come Monday. The dogs go to Armstrong’s for one last stretch at doggy camp. When the dog’s leave for four days, the move will be officially underway, not to be finished until the last box has been placed in its respective room the week of Christmas.

Time to get to it.

Samain                                                                              Moving Moon

The sleep deprivation demon has come out to play the last couple of nights. Wake up for any reason and, wham! How will we give water to the dogs on the trip? Have we disclosed everything we need to on the disclosure statement? Where will we get the cashier’s check for the movers? Here or in Colorado. Those last minute meds. Will they show up in time? Just like that your mind is awake and generating a list of things you hadn’t even considered up to that point. How energetic of you, mind.

Again, this seems normal. Feels like waiting for Christmas and Santa. The lights are on, the trees up, the presents are under the tree, but still. We. Have. To. Wait.

Getting closer and closer. We’re under a week today.

Talked with Kate over lunch today and said I don’t feel regret, sadness, nostalgia. Those feelings have come up, had their moment, as long as they needed. It’s nice, because it leaves me free to feel excited, even gleeful. And, I do.

Samain                                                                                    Moving Moon

The scut work. The last stuff to throw out. A bagster is set up in our third garage bay, getting filled with overflow from the shop: old hacksaws, rusted screws, chargers to tools no longer owned, chunks of shelving for units long ago discarded.

Into it also went those old squirrel proof bird feeders. These last had a bar that the weight of the bird landing would not depress, so the bird could feed. A squirrel’s weight on it depressed the bar, closing the feeder. That was the theory. The squirrels would balance on the main part of the bird feeder, stretch out a paw and. Food!

A few red boxes for half-priced books, some stuff for Goodwill, old posters, dishes, a cross given to me by a Presbyterian church after I preached, old fraternity paddles from Kate’s college days. Somebody can pretend they were in Beta Theta Pi.

Decisions now are summary. Yes, that goes in trash. No, we’re going to put that in the trash, too. Trash wins all ties.

There is no joy in these acts; though, as Kate said, once we get the place feeling less cluttered, we’ll feel better. She’s right. It looks right now as if we are living the life of highly organized hoarders. Rows of boxes. Stuff put out for donation or recycling or trash.