Almost Heaven

There is such a place as heaven on earth and I have found it for me.

For twenty six years I lived in Norfolk, Virginia.  I did not live in the nicest of neighborhoods.  I drove in high volume traffic and lived near one of the busiest intersections in the city.  I often heard gunshots at night and would have to drive for miles in order to come to a place where I felt safe going for a walk.  I did not like city life.  I lived only a few miles from the ocean and would often go for weeks without seeing it. 

My life situation was such that I did not think that I would ever be able to live the life I really wanted.  I had dreamed of a home in the country surrounded by trees, animals and birds.  I was stuck in the city yearning for wide open spaces.  I preferred walking in the woods over a walk through the mall.  City squirrels and pigeons were not meeting my need for animal companionship.

A year and a half ago the housing market made it possible for me to sell my townhouse and head to New Hampshire to be near my grandchildren.  I was fortunate to find a small apartment on the outskirts of a small town.  Nearby was an alpaca farm where I could visit and play, and miles and miles of hiking trails were within a short drive of my door.  I didn’t think it could get much better than that.  However, I was wrong.

In early December, a friend and Tai Chi student informed me that she was getting prepared to rent the apartment that had been occupied by her mother.  Her mother had passed away a few days before my mother had succumbed to colon cancer and we were both dealing with the aftermath of our respective losses.  Betsy’s family owned this beautiful piece of property that includes a cabin, a converted barn (Betsy’s home for thirty plus years) and a 300 year old colonial farm house with three apartments.  The first floor apartment being a spacious 2-3 bedroom home with two fireplaces, a wood stove, sun room and enough space to spread my arms and feel free.  Betsy told me that she was determined to hang on to this property and needed to have all units occupied with renters.

However, she wanted renters who would bring a sense of community and willingness to live simply and be responsible caretakers of the land and home.

Not only was this the home I had always wanted but it was also located in a small village in the hills of southwest New Hampshire that I had first heard about when I read May Sarton’s Journal of a Solitude last spring.  I had strongly identified with May and found myself drawn to this small community so far off the beaten path that it remains much as it looked 200 years ago. 

I moved in on March 9^th.

It is hard to describe the joy I feel at being here.  I still feel as if I am in a dream and I find that I don’t want to go to work in the morning for fear that it will somehow all disappear while I am gone. 

My new friend, Mabel, is the big wood stove in the large country kitchen.  I have learned how to keep her going and bring her back to life from a few hot coals.  She keeps the pipes from freezing and comforts me on cold mornings.  I now understand the meaning of “keeping the home fires burning.” 

I now can step out my door and have a variety of country roads on which to walk at all hours of the day.  I have followed the sound of a morning rooster and found a farm with newborn lambs watched over by a stoic guard llama.  The horses come to the fence expectantly so I now carry carrots on my walks.

During my first morning walk I saw a red fox running through the snowy woods.

Last weekend, after our last snowstorm of the season, I put on my cross country skis as I stood in my yard and then skied over to the pond, making a quick stop at the village library to drop off a couple of movies.  I never thought I would live in a place where I could experience so much joy.

One of my favorite walks takes me up the hill that looks over the village square, past the 200 year old cemetery, past a few farms and up another hill to a field at the end of which I can see my mountain, Mt. Monadnock, his icy granite face shining in the sun.  As I walk I pick up dead branches and twigs to use as kindling to feed Mabel when she is down to just a few hot coals in the morning.

One of my greatest joys in this place is feeding the chickadees.  Over two days I spent a few periods of time in the Tai Chi standing meditation pose of Wu Chi, hands outstretched and holding sunflower seeds.  I soon had chickadees landing on my fingers and eating the seeds from my palm.  The sound of chickachickachicka dee dee dee and the whir of wings about my head has become the background music of my meditation.

In addition to all of this beauty I am also now a part of a small community of women who share the property while we all still maintain our own private living space.  We range in age from early 30s to early 60s and on St. Patrick’s Day I invited them all in for a good corned beef and cabbage meal.  Darcy brought flowers for us all, Kristin made good Irish soda bread and Betsy did the after meal clean up. We give each other our space while also being available to each other as needed for support, check ins, and walking or movie companions.

I can’t believe it at times.  I still find myself with tears in my eyes as I think that only a few short years ago I thought I would be stuck in the city forever.  This place is so true to the vision that I thought was only a dream that I find myself fearing that I will wake up.  As each day goes by, however, I find that I can accept this good that has come into my life and embrace the belief that dreams can come true.