Samain and the Holiseason Moon
Saturday gratefuls: The electrician and his dog, Lulu. Omega Electric. The mini-splits with power. Jodi. Brought a copy of the quartzite Taj Mahal and some of the brick backsplash. Plus, cabinet samples. One with the stain. Which is very close to the Stickley. Missed workout with all the busyness.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: New kitchen by Christmas
Tarot: Three of Swords, Druid Craft
Electricity out in the loft all day. Running conduit to the mini-split. Forgot to ask the electrician’s name, but we bonded over Rigel and Kepler. He has a Shibu Inu/Husky mix, Lulu. She’s a cutey. Looks like a miniature Husky.
I have a new, larger electrical panel in the garage. More space. David will come on Monday or Tuesday to walk me through operation and maintenance of the mini-splits. From Tom and his colleague to my walls in less than four months. The spring will be a much happier experience. And, perhaps, this winter, too. Though. Not counting on that.
The other project, the kitchen remodel, got a check written yesterday. That means matters have gotten serious. Right now it will be rich brown, espresso cabinets, a brick backsplash, and a slightly veined white cabinet top. And, a farmer’s sink. Jodi says it will be underway the week after Thanksgiving and finished before Christmas.
I’ve got boxes by the fireplace. I have to clear out the kitchen before the demolition begins. That will take awhile. Gonna look for a reupholsterer for the couch so it can be gone during the kitchen work. I’ll have enough money left over to buy an additional chair for the upstairs. Not sure if I will or not. Might just go with the Stickley and the leather chair I’ve used for several years.
Although I’ve not used the fireplace much, especially since Kate got sick and I got diagnosed with COPD (later changed to post-polio syndrome), I couldn’t resist ordering, from Ireland, a box of peat logs. Gotta get some firewood, too. The post-polio diagnosis means a little smoke from a fireplace is not gonna create a problem.
The reason for the peat logs? The Faery Faith, the book By Evans-Wentz. He gathered stories of the auld Celtic faith in Scottish, Irish, Welsh, and Breton homes. The Irish heated with peat and I want to smell it.
They came yesterday while I talked with the electrician. A heavy box, though not very large. Maybe 2 feet long and six inches square.
Kep and Rigel slept back to back with me. A cool night with warm dogs. Perfect.
Three of Swords:
“Keywords: Heartache. True growth. Wisdom from suffering.
Meaning: True growth and transformation. Heartache, out of which can come healing and emotional maturity.” DCB
Heartache? Oh, yes. Suffering. Quite a bit. Growth? Feels like it. Quieter. Calmer. The worst has happened. I’ve had to integrate Kate’s death into a new life. On the cusp. Learned to lean on those who love me. While loving them back. Perhaps that’s all the wisdom we need?
Transformation. We’ll see. I feel different, my life feels like its contours have changed. But. Am I different? Hard to say from the inside. In many ways my life and I are the same.
I come home to 9358 Black Mountain Drive. Kep and Rigel get fed, cared for. I see folks from CBE, commune with my ancient friends at the electrical hearth. Family, too. I buy groceries, cook, pay bills. See to my own medical issues.
What’s different? Kate’s gone. And, my physical, in this world, relationship with her. It’s now Kep, Rigel, and me. I make decisions on my own, without my partner. Though. I do hear her voice. The responsibilities here are now all mine. To be fair, however, that was true for quite a while before now.
I’m not sure I can define the transformation well. At least this morning. Maybe later. I’ll ask others, see what they see. Some significant things have changed, I know. But what they are? Not sure.
