Remodeling Our Hut Part 33: New Year's Eve Retrospective

In a few hours, 2019 will be history, and what a year it was.  From garden conventions to record-breaking rainfall, house demolition and construction and the heart-breaking loss of Carl's father, 2019 was a rough one. 

I was trying to get a good before and after picture of the house, but because we have so many trees, it's hard to get the right perspective, especially with the contractor's trailer in the driveway.  

Looking through photos from 1978 and the initial construction of the hut, it's a little easier to see without all the trees in the way.

September 1978, right after we were married, brand-spanking-new Little Hut in the Alfalfa Field

 To (at roughly the same perspective) December 2019.

1978: Little Hut in the Snowbank

 

 My late father standing on our front lawn in the early 1980's.  To his left is a crabapple tree (long ago removed) we moved from his yard and to his right, though only a mere twig, is the birch tree, which is still standing.

Just before demolition began, June 2019:

 

November 2019
 

 December 30, 2019

 Incidentally, the 1978 photos were pictures I showed to prospective contractors when trying to explain what we wanted to accomplish with a remodel, and why all but one contractor said, "No, thank you, you'd be further ahead to tear it down and start over."

Yes, well, we didn't.  Hard to believe, though the remodel was expensive, to start from scratch would have cost twice as much.

 

Ah, summer of 2019, where did you go?  

Though we completely stopped caring for the garden in June, the one constant joy I could count on while wheeling loads of shingles and demolition debris to the dumpster was that my path was brightened by the serenity of the gardens.

I'd drop the wheelbarrow handles every now and then and take a breath of sweetly scented air along with pictures to remember that 2019 wasn't all about plaster dust, indecision, anxiety, work and five gallon pails full of rain water in the living room.

 

 

The flowers bloomed despite the chaos going on around them, and they consistently lifted my spirits.

Fall arrived when we weren't looking.

 

 So we bid farewell to 2019. 

We're not back in our hut yet, the remodel is still ongoing, but we are much closer to the finish than the beginning.  I was sitting upstairs in our house this afternoon, looking out the window at the sleeping garden under the snow, and though all around me, the house is still in a state of chaos and full of dust and we still have no doorknobs or running water,  I felt a great contentment.  

I'm glad we didn't listen to the contractors who said we should tear down the hut and start over.  We have no wish to move from here.  It's not perfect, but it's home.  

I enjoy people who love to travel and love to hear about their adventures.  I'm probably missing out on a lot in life by being a stick in the mud, but I am at peace on the farm I've never left. 

The following poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow sums up my feelings perfectly. 

Song

Stay, stay at home, my heart and rest;

Home-keeping hearts are happiest,

For those who wander they know not where

Are full of trouble and full of care;

To stay at home is best.

Weary and homesick and distressed,

They wander east, they wander west,

And are baffled and beaten and blown about

By the winds of the wilderness of doubt;

To stay at home is best.

Then stay at home, my heart, and rest;

The bird is safest in its nest;

O'er all that flutter their wings and fly

A hawk is hovering in the sky;

To stay at home is best.

 

 It hopefully won't be too much longer before we're back in our nest.  

Truly, for me, to stay at home is best.

Happy New Year!