Celebrate

Before and After

Finally, after almost a year, our house is again a home. The windows and doors were installed last Tuesday. The dogs aren’t so happy, but we sure are. The house tells the story of both mine and Jonathan's heritages with its mix of materials and styles. The dark windows remind me of a Los Angeles bungalow, the untreated wood porch feels very Southwestern, many of the textiles are from Bulgaria, and of course the olive trees, and sound of the sea, are Mediterranean. 

Every morning when I wake up and look around, I see beauty inside and out of the house. I especially appreciate the local Pelio stone floors. I think about the stone workers down at the local quarry who dragged the stones out of the earth, and Eri and his family, who carefully laid each one. This floor will be here long after I’m not, something that I appreciate being reminded of as I walk barefoot through the house. The same reminder goes with the olive tree that shades our front porch. Her name, Circe, is a least 250 years old, meaning that she’s been around since the signing of the Declaration of Independence. At the moment, ripe green olives are weighing down her branches. It is almost harvest time. 

There is much to celebrate, but there is also a deep awareness that many people in the world are losing their homes at this very moment due to war and environmental degradation. This awareness makes me feel a bit shaky, and reminds me once more of life’s impermanence.

 Here are some before and after pictures . .

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