Be Glad Your Nose is on Your Face

(click to enlarge and read)

Last week, I came across this poem by Prelutsky. The picture immediately predicts that it will be a little weird. Most of Prelutsky's are. I wouldn't have thought such a colorfully illustrated poem would have helped me realize some truths I needed to remember: To be grateful for things how they are. That sometimes things might not be greener on the other side. That the ordinary, day-to-day, how-things-have-always-been is alright.

Some of you knew that Matt and I have been considering moving. Seriously considering since Thanksgiving. Matt's company has been toying with the idea of branching down to Saint George and asking Matt to run the whole area down there. Unexpectedly, I jumped at the chance. Ready for a change/beyond sick of things here/craving the warmer weather and new scenery/wanting this for our family, I was on board. It is all we've been thinking of the past while. We have been doing cosmetic fix-ups to the house. We have looked at the market down there. We have been comparing the cold temps here to the warmer days there. We have talked to the bosses. All seemed great and exciting. Months ago we would have boxed up and been out of here in a heartbeat! No looking back!

But, time has passed. We haven't pack. We haven't gotten a final word from the boss (they are still mulling it over). We haven't felt at peace about putting the house on the market. The initial excitement has passed. Nearly as suddenly as we began considering, we have decided against it. For several reasons, we have made plans to not change our plans. We are sticking it out here...where we don't really want to be.

I have spent the past months looking out my back kitchen window at the garden space. Uncharacteristically, I didn't order any seeds from catalogs. I didn't map out in my mind where the vegetables would go this year. My greenhouse is not up and running. I actually dread again being in that space. So beyond trying to pull myself out the season lows of the winter, I am also up against trying to refall in love with where we're at.

Just last week, still in the trenches of deciding to move on or stay put - but leaning towards the fact of nothing changing, a wise friend replied to an email. She wrote in essence, "Plant like you're going to be there forever. Then move when you have to. That's what the pioneers did, right, plant and leave." Her advice gave me more comfort and snap-out-of-it help than she knew.

I've been thinking of both her words and the poem above all weekend. I am where I am and will continue to be here for a long while. Things aren't so bad how they are. I am scrambling to get seed orders placed late and buck up and be happy. I am planning to make the most of the now and stop considering the possibility to move that will most likely remain just that - a possibility that won't happen.