Winter                                                          Settling Moon

At 3:30 pm the last mover left Black Mountain Drive: Smitty, DC, Anthony, David and Richard. All gone. With this post I’m retiring the Move category in Ancientrails. Things will crop up related to Minnesota, or problems related to the moving process, certainly to the sale of our home in Andover, but from now on they occur to us as permanent residents of Colorado. No longer moving.

A less dramatic, but more satisfying, period began this afternoon, settling in. Now we cut the masking tape, flatten the cardboard and place things where, for now, they make the most sense to us.

Once our living area, more compact and happily so, has its features defined, then we can move to our separate spaces and begin on them.

So for now, thanks to all who’ve helped us, movers and friends, family and utility workers, Mike the Fence Guy, realtors, too. If you care to call, we are at home in Colorado.

Winter                                                  Settling Moon

The lodgepole pines sway in an early morning gust. They have whitened branches near their crowns, remnants of last night’s snow. Today will be clear and colder, Conifer being 16 while Andover registers 37.  A bit backward from expectations, but individual days will vary.

Once all of our stuff finally has a place in our home we can begin the process of shuffling and repositioning. That will take into the summer I imagine, gradually lessening as winter winds down and we make the turn toward our first mountain spring, but continuing as we refine our use of the spaces here.

It’s easier to breathe here, unless exerting yourself, the thinner, cleaner air a mild revelation, the lack of humidity a part of it, too.

We still have to get a washer/dryer, but have to decided to wait until post-Christmas sales.

The longest move, following the longest night, should come to an end today. May it be so.

Winter                                                                        Settling Moon

The three movers, David and Anthony, two Apache’s and their nephew, an Apache/Navajo teenager, went on strike last night as dark fell, the tow truck had not come and they had already been working since 8 a.m.

It was a fraught situation. Richard has a plane to catch today, returning to Florida for Christmas with his wife and daughter, two dogs. He needs (in trucker driver needs) unload his truck and he wanted it done last night. Matters, however, conspired against him.

Snow, recalcitrant crew, a truck in a ditch with county snowplows making regular sweeps on Black Mountain Drive, commuters coming home from work and the holiday always lying in the background. He called for the tow at 3:30 p.m. 5:30 pm came and went. Later, Richard learned, the first tow truck had broken its transmission en route.

At 7:05 pm last night, the tow truck finally came. But locals here had seen the situation, talked with Richard, got their pick-ups ready and had him out about 20 minutes before the tow arrived.

All the while I’m relearning the serenity of accepting the things I cannot change.

We start again this morning at 8 am with two crews of two plus Richard. Our belongings will be in the house and up in the loft today. One day more or less is insignificant.

While looking through our front door at the 26 foot U-haul truck stuck in the ditch, its hazard lights lit up the slow fall of snow flakes. “Winter wonderland,” said Richard, the Floridian, with a hint of sarcasm. But, you know, it was. I leaned over to Kate and said, “Won’t this make a great story to tell our grandchildren?”