Samain                                                                                 Moving Moon

Weather station and a computer monitor went in a plastic tub. The final items have begun to disappear leaving only the bare minimum. This computer, this printer, the two televisions. Dishes, pots and pans. Even those will go on Monday.

Though there’s some question about Conifer, it’s beginning to look like the weather is going to cooperate with a thaw headed toward us and a mild week next week, the packing, loading and leaving week. Though I’m a guy who likes a consistently cold winter and lots of snow, I’m happy if it holds off this next couple of weeks.

Samain                                                                              Moving Moon

Kate’s off at the Third Bird, a Minneapolis restaurant, with the ladies who lunch, a last meal together. I’ll have my last presentation at Groveland on Sunday, then the last Woolly meeting as a Minnesota resident on Monday night at the Nicollet Island Inn.

These moments are no longer a ways in the future. They are now. This house is a temporary skin, one we’re ready to molt. Someone else will harvest the garlic crop in the ground. Someone else will plant the raised beds next year and harvest the apples, cherries, plums, blueberries.

Meanwhile we’ll be considering how to keep the bears out of the honey and how to grow vegetables at all at 8,800 feet. And opening boxes.