Thanks to that difficult Geography course I took last fall, I’ve developed a habit of checking noaa.gov each morning. I like seeing what the temperature will be, if we’ll have lots of low or high pressure on the surface or in the atmosphere, if there will be a storm or a clear day. In case you’re wondering, high pressure means nice weather, low pressure means disturbance and convection, like a boiling pot of water.
We’ve found a place. A place to fall in love with for now. Why do we do this so often? We’ve been at this rental for three years, which used to feel like an eternity to me, now it feels like a once-round walk around the block. This little house has been good to us, but it is time to move on to new opportunities. I’ve never wanted to hold any of us back, and since I don’t believe that any one of us owns any part of the land, we might as well flow with the tides of migration and progress, instead of sitting and waiting it out. Our ancestors didn’t stake claim until recently in history, I guess I’m finding it harder to adapt to being a domesticated human.
What can I say about the new place? It’s one half of a large duplex, brick, gorgeous, big without being too big, lots of character and charm. The landlord takes care of the lawn (they live in the other half of the duplex), and we have an unfinished basement for storage, something I’ve been pining for.
The best part is that it’s right in downtown Maryville, the town we love, and Xander will be attending one of the best school systems in the state. We’ll be able to walk to our favorite coffee shop, market, library, and restaurants. It’s a proper small southern town, right at the base of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park (the town sits in the foothills. but the official boundary is within a twenty minute drive). We’re excited.
I hope I don’t let a month pass without writing here again. I need to be better about that. This summer is melting away like a vanilla ice cream cone on a sidewalk and I should be recording it. Most days we are swimming or lazy, watching Netflix or Amazon Prime marathons. We stay in the backyard, making small fires and playing with the dog. If it’s not so hot we ride our bikes around the block a few times, and when we move we’ll be able to ride them to actual destinations — the library, the coffee shop, the park with the ampitheatre, the market. We can walk the dog to places, not just in a suburban locked-in circle, where the next destination is always this house or that house, or that empty field. We’re not cut out for the suburbs any more than I’m cut out to stay put in one place.