A Slow-Motion Garden

My wife and I woke up three weeks ago to discover that we had finally paid off our mortgage. Forty minutes later a roofing crew showed up to start reshingling our house: winter storms had stripped most of the south side of the roof, and we had a choice between hitting the line of credit to fix it now or waiting until there was water damage and spending even more.

This evening, we discovered that there’s a slow leak under the kitchen sink. Fixing it requires more skill and courage than we have, so a plumber is going to come by tomorrow. All of this reminds me of something my father once said: a house is like a slow-motion garden. Owning one isn’t like owning a book or a table; you can’t just put it somewhere and expect it not to change between one day and the next. You have to tend to it as you would a plum tree or a patch of garlic—it just lives its life at a slower pace.

Time to make another cup of tea. If you came in peace, be welcome.