Changes in Ranges Bitter and Sweet

My life, it's impasse. Able.
It's a long, long story, and it's a hard one to tell, mainly because I had lots to do with some of the story. But in the end, when all's said and done, I had very little to do with this place, at all. Geologically speaking. Agriculturally speaking. Horticulturally, too. I made little dents, and tiny ecosystems, which will all be easily overwhelmed the moment I stop my endless guarding against weeds.
OH, why do some people unerringly choose the wrong fork.
When I say some people? I really mean me.

I've had several beginnings for this tale, but this start just keeps coming back.

How on earth do I explain to Flip that her world is going to shrink by a factor of 50, sooner rather than later? How will Blaze cope with her shrunken range? I'll have to drive them "out" for REAL walks, the way I used to, almost two decades ago. City dogs have it so tough, don't they? As I mentioned (oops, maybe that's going to mention) in another post (which is still in drafts, right!), I've read Ted Kerasote's book "Pukka's Promise", and all kinds of obviousnesses blew up in my head. It kinda hurt. Probably like my dogs' paws hurt, after they've been salted 5 days a week. My dogs don't know why I drive to the city, they have no say in the matter. I'm sure they'd rather stay home.

When I had the opportunity to move to the "country", all those years ago, I leaped at the chance, because I had a new wee red dog, and I wanted her to have the most room to run. It just seemed fair to the dog. Of course, it was entirely UNfair to me, as it dawned on me that first day I started the car in the country, and drove to work in the city. Wee red dog hated that commute. And so did I. So many of us spend so much time in our vehicles, and no time doing something. ANYthing. All you readers and texters and phone-talkers that think you are drivers? CUT that OUT. Please. I don't like talking to someone when they're driving:) I guess that's why I haven't been a passenger for as often as possible. Hah. English can be fractured.

And still be spelled correctly!!
When I call where I live "country", I really mean, "someday all will be houses" land. It's transient, too. Just not nearly transient as me, and my dogs.

ANYway, I did/do love many things about the house in the country. It is so quiet. Other than critters, of course. But oh, having to leave it for work every day was rough. My roomie was great, but she actually (shouldn't have) depended on me to let her dog out, which got really tricky for me. Hard to leave work, drive an hour, and come back, ya know.

I wonder if I'll ever have a point, again. Every glance I take is probably it's last, for this time and place. It is dawning on my that I've spent almost one third of my life here. That's a long, long time!! However, since I`ve Been Moved a lot in my life, I basically enjoyed every second that I could, here. I knew this was temporary. One cannot expect to live like a king on a pauper`s salary forever... Somehow, the years just kept adding up. I never lost the sense of "this isn't mine", and "I won't be here forever". But it seems forever is up, for this place and me.

As the recently transplanted cityit that I was, I went through the usual, snowed-in, power-out, pipes-froze, critters-B&E's, neighbour-dog-fracas, country stuff at the first place. I learned to have a quick shower, and I learned how to split wood. OH, the fire-place, giver of heat and warmth in those first frozen nights... My Simon cat totally dug it.

I never expected to fall so hard for a place. I loved that first place the best. I met my husband while living there. He was on the next property south of us, and our driveways were right beside one another.  His dog visted us first, several times in fact, to the chagrin of roomie and her dog. I learned the history of the farms all around us, through the man who would become my husband. MWWBMH for short:)  Okay, MH for short.When I met MH, and eventually decided to move in with this unsuspecting farmer, the worst part was leaving that first house. Sure, MH's place had more acreage, two ponds, yadada. But it was down in the valley. No far-reaching sunset views. Have you ever seen our views from up here? You can see all the way to the Niagara Escarpment AllYouNeedToKnow, that giant shoulder of an ancient sea jutting up to meet both Lake Huron and Georgian Bay, shrugging them off with ancient disdain. You can see the weather rolling in from up there, and the sunsets can break your heart. So, I left my heart place, when I moved in with MH. I didn't ask/plan/think, I just moved. I missed the fireplace the very first night. The old place took one helluva beating through some storms we've had, after I moved out, and many of the trees are gone. I was glad I wasn't living there when the F2-scary blew through. Most have long gone from the property north, through cutting and chipping. And now, most have gone to the west of here. Chip, chip, chip, little by little we whittle the ground down. I hope the earth lets us keep breathing.

Now, MH's story is the important part of THIS house's story. When he was looking for a rental in the area, close to his home farm, but away from the parents, he had several options. He chose the right one from a farmer's point of view (great land, good drainage etc.), and the exactly wrong one, from a home-renter's point of view. And therein begins a tale.

But not today. Everything changes, I just never know when.
I'll keep ya posted.