We've Landed

We've been "moved into" our house for two days now, and there are so many great things I don't know where to begin.

Moving was extremely busy and exhausting, but we are mostly unpacked. There are a few home maintenance things that we've been doing, as I outlined in the last post. The list is not getting any shorter, no matter how hard we work on it. That's okay with me at this point, because it's fun. 

The house didn't come with a washer and dryer or a microwave, so I scouted out craigslist until I found all three: washer and dryer for $225 and brand-new over-the-range microwave for $120. Score! I love craigslist. I'll be needing a new refrigerator and stove soon, so I'll be keeping an eye out for those.

We've found that the temperature fluctuates wildly in the house, getting chilly at night and warm during the day (the cold is what bothers me, though). We've lived in shared housing so long that we are used to using our neighbors to buffer us against the extremes. I've learned to shut the windows just after the warmest part of the day to keep the heat in, even though I would love to leave them open.

But the best part of our new house is not the house at all, but what's outside of it. It sits on a nearly quarter acre lot, the perimeter of which is lined with a six-foot fence and trees, including a cluster of pines, a few maples, and a couple that I haven't yet identified but they are very large. The backyard smells of the woods and lilacs (my neighbor's, but they droop over the fence onto my side). I have a couple of bushes out front that are flowering right now (pictured in this post), and a couple of rosebushes, one of which is blooming right now with the most beautiful roses. I'll have to take a picture of those tomorrow.

The very best part is that from our back porch (which is so big that according to Husband's friend Jim, "You could play full-court basketball on it!"), I can't see my neighbors and my neighbors can't see me through the vegetation. Total privacy. I can truly relax without worrying that someone watching me, which sounds ridiculously paranoid, but nobody is at ease under (perceived) observation, right? The morning sun filters through the trees right onto the porch and the birds sing their songs. A show just for me, every morning. Peace.