Emotional attachments aside, there will naturally be things that I can’t take with me that I’ll miss.
1. My Bathtub.
I have to confess, I’m a water baby. Maybe it’s from being an East Coast girl. Possibly, it’s because I’m a Pisces. Or maybe I was an ocean creature in another life. Whatever the reason, my idea of a little piece of heaven is soaking in a warm bath with a good book for an hour or two. Mike calls this “spending the evening with the boyfriend,” lol. Luckily, he’s not that jealous, even if he sometimes has to call me from the living room, just to make sure I haven’t drowned or anything.
Along the same idea is my swimming pool. I have an 18’ above ground pool that becomes my second home in the summer. In fact, if I could figure out how to cook in it, I’d probably never get out. But sadly, there’s no practical way to drag it along with the trailer, so it will have to be sold, or possibly let go with the house (and the bathtub). Sigh.
2. My Bird Feeder.
All year long my feeder is alive with Chickadees, Woodpeckers, Hummingbirds, Finches, Blue Jays, Flickers, Grackles and more. I also have about a dozen pair of Mourning Doves that feed on the ground below the feeder, cleaning up what the fussy Chickadees toss over their shoulders. Most of these have become tame enough that I can stand in the open patio door (about 6 inches from the feeder) and the birds aren’t bothered in the least. I can spend hours at my kitchen table just watching them flit back and forth.
As well, there is the local backyard wildlife. Rabbits, raccoons, skunks, an ermine, and the fattest Grey Squirrel on record. (We’ve named him Buddha, since that’s who he looks like when he sits. More rolls than a bakery.) In all fairness, if I’d stop feeding him toast and peanut butter, the Jenny Craig might have a chance to kick in.
Unfortunately, the feeder is quite large and heavy. The amount of storage room it would take in the trailer is not really worth the trouble of bringing it. I’m hoping whoever buys the house will care for the birds like we do, and I’ll leave the feeder for them. Attention potential buyers: owners of outdoor cats need not apply. I think Buddha eats them.
3. My Plants.
I don’t have a green thumb. I don’t even have a brown thumb. I have a black one. Realistically, I could kill a plastic plant in under a week. I can’t get dandelions to grow on my lawn. I can barely manage mold on week-old bread.
So imagine my surprise when darling husband presents me with a white Phalaenopsis Orchid one Christmas. It was beautiful, so it really confused me that he thought I’d like to have something I was sure to kill. Yet, unbelievably, it thrived. Over 10 years later, it’s still growing, still blooming, and still beautiful. It has produced 3 Keikis (baby orchids)and is currently so top heavy that it’s blooms are resting on the windowsill. Go figure. The one plant that’s supposed to be difficult to grow, and I’ve managed to keep it alive this long.
Loving daughter has since added to my collection with another Phalaenopsis, this one with large purple spots, and it’s also thriving. I’ve also managed to keep a Peace Lily and an Anthurium alive for over 5 years, something of a small miracle, and I’m the proud owner of one of the largest Christmas Cactus I’ve ever seen. I mean, this thing is so large, the stems/leaves closest to the roots have actually turned to wood. It takes two people to lift the pot when it needs to be moved. I can’t bear to throw any of them away, so I’ll be looking to re-home them to someone who’ll love them as much as I do.
There is one exception. In my front yard lives a Cinnamon Rose bush. Every summer it bears light tan/pink blooms that smell like wild roses. At best estimate, it would be over 100 years old. It’s history that was told to me is as follows: My husband’s great-grandfather emigrated to New Brunswick from Scotland somewhere around the turn of the century. After establishing a homestead, he sent for his young bride to join him in Canada, which she did. However, the young woman became very homesick for her native Scotland. As a thoughtful gesture, the husband arranged to have a part of the rosebush from his wife’s family home dug up and shipped to her in New Brunswick, so that she would have part of her home with her. It seemed to have done the trick, because the family settled and have been in the area ever since. The rose bush that lives in my front yard is a cutting from that original plant. This will be dug up and transplanted to a permanent location yet to be determined.
There will be other things, of course. My kitchen gadgets and tools, as there is no way I’ll be able to take all of them. My books and magazines, mostly to do with graphic design and photography. Other miscellaneous things, but mostly the three items listed above. Still, it’s a small price to pay for the grand adventure that awaits.
And the waiting is the one thing I won’t miss.
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