Is progress always a good thing? (September 2019)

We can’t claim to be “rough-in it” anymore. There, I said it. For all our friends who think we are hippies living in woods and picking berries and catching fish. Well, it was never really true and definitely not now. We have Electricity. A coffee maker (a really nice OXO that rivals the Technivorm!). A refrigerator. A hot shower. We contemplated a television, which is embarrassing but if you know my lovely husband you will understand. Asking him to go without the news is like asking me to give up coffee. Glad I won that one ;) I still believe that we need to maintain the character of this place, but can we throw a few modern conveniences in too, please? We still wash dishes and do the unmentionable things outside. Does that count?

I found a perfect little arrowhead on our beach. Was it whispering to me? …people were here before you and will be here after you. Don’t screw this up.

So much has happened in a very short time frame. It’s like we can see this in fast forward now. We have our first set of house drawings. Soon blueprints. And budgets. And decisions, lots of decisions. Breathe. We want to enjoy the journey, too!

Other adult realities of land ownership and boat ownership set in this month. A nearly record-breaking rain (13 inches, so we hear) washed out the road to our property. The only road. The Valley of the Two Culverts, according to our neighbors. Gulp.

Our Tuff Shed home. But we’re not sleeping in it, who said we are sleeping in it?!

Fortunately, people who live in the woods like to play with four wheelers and snowmobiles, so there are other “roads” – calling it a “road” is definitely a stretch. But you make do, and navigate an ATV trail in the woods in your SUV. In the dark. In the woods. That was fun. The neighbors, old and new, chipped in to make it new. Our neighbors, who bought their property in the 80s for $9,000 – yes, $9,000 – have aptly named the twists and turns of the roads over the years in order to communicate and probably keep track of their kids. So, where are you? Oh, you’re at Old Scratch’s Den, call me when you reach The Valley of the Two Culverts. We love it, and I have nominated Tom to create our own cartoon map.

And we had our first experience begging a new neighbor to tow our boat home across the lake when it ran out of gas. Hey man, I know we just met two weeks ago, but… Mortifying. But everyone has been there. And we will be there again, I’m sure of it. We will pay it forward. We all laughed and they offered us beer. All good.

But rewind - before that happened, my little Annie made me the happiest doggy mom, ever. I have always wanted our dogs to be of the calm variety, who quietly sit in a kayak or on the front of a paddle board and go on adventures with you. Ya right, they are weimaraners! Even though I was pretty sure that it would never happen, I started with our calmer Cooper, coaxing him on to the paddle board. One paw, then another, and then it lurched and nope, not having it Mom. So we moved on and Annie jumped into the water, ran right over to me, and jumped on the board without so much as a blink. Hi mom! She sat their quietly while we paddled. It didn’t last long, but I’ll take it. She is definitely turning into our little athlete. Cooper, on the other hand, is a really good napper and sunbather.

Now that the house planning is in the hands of the architects, we focused our eyes on the prize. De-muck the cove. We know that our green, muddy, marshy, grassy, mosquito-loving cove of water will be turquoise blue with a sandy bottom. Some day. We just close our eyes really tight and can picture it. We know it will be perfect some day. Perfectly rustic and full of birds and ducks, and hopefully less muddy and stinky. Maybe even swimmable. So we schlepped stinky decomposed plants and leaves and logs out of the water. Have you ever seen the show Dirty Jobs?

We have waders. Not surprisingly, Tom was braver than I. The first time we waded into the muck and my feet starting to suction into the mud like it was the Swamp of Sadness – you know, the horse in The Never Ending Story? Childhood trauma at my throat. So Tom the Brave waded into the water and I stayed on the shore, ready to pull him out, of course. We waged war on the muck. Weed razers and rakes and chemicals and old fashioned cleaning by hand. We now have a dock for our boat and the Cove is better with every pass. We are feeling pretty proud of our handy work.

And then we were nearly outsmarted by the raccoons. After several late night raccoon dining experiences, we finally got a real trash can. We closed it tight with bungie cords and went to bed. Even the late night rustling outside didn’t bother us, because we were smarter than the raccoons. Were we? The next morning, the trash can was completely gone. Vanished. No evidence whatsoever. These Michigan raccoons must be on some serious steroids, because that trash can was all the way down the hill. The 35 foot drop off. In the end, we won! Trash can still closed! It’s the small victories.

We wrapped up our recent weekend with some soul-satisfying tree-cutting. Tom asked for tree spikes! No need to get too out of hand, but it is pure fun to cut down trees. Especially when your goal is a beautiful view of the water.

As I’m writing this there is a full double rainbow. Vibrant, stunning colors. I wonder what the first person to see a rainbow thought that it meant. Maybe mother nature is pleased with our progress.