There are so many things I am thankful for this year. Of course I have the usual items on my list: family, friends and our health. I am grateful that we are nesting in our new home and creating a retirement life there. But also, high on my thanksgiving list is the ability to share my thoughts about retirement life in this blog. But it would not be any fun at all without someone to read it. So mostly, I am thankful for you dear readers. Thank you for taking the time out of your lives to read my string of words and to share your comments.
We are looking forward to going to son #2 and his family’s home for dinner this year. (It still seems strange that my kids are old enough to host a holiday.) They are both wonderful cooks, and we will all pitch in with the side dishes. One of my favorite things about this holiday is that we are not distracted and running around buying gifts or coloring eggs. The focus is on just being appreciative for life and our peeps that we share it with. Well… and the food… and football.
I hope you have a long list of things you are thankful for this year. Happy Thanksgiving!
The digital age has brought speed, convenience and options to our current lifestyle. I use technology… Every. Single. Day. I love it. And I hate it. And sometimes I miss how life was before the digital world became our normal. I have lived the majority of my life without a computer, the internet, or a cell phone. I know that makes me sound old, but heck… I am. Now everything from banking, buying groceries to purchasing clothes and gifts is done online and there is very little human interaction.
I have lived long enough to know that, somewhere in our era of convenience and efficiency, we have lost a little connection with others. Obviously, the internet has made it much easier to connect on a superficial basis, but I want deeper connection. The kind of connection that comes from long, slow conversations where you touch the person’s arm to emphasize a point or look them in the eyes to let them know, “I see you” without even saying it. I miss a life where we had to slow down, because living just took a little longer. Not that I want to turn back the clock, but there are a few things I miss about the pre-digital age.
Six things I miss about the pre-digital age
HANDWRITTEN LETTERS
I miss real letters and cards that come in a metal mailbox. Tell me your heart does not skip a beat when you physically pick up the mail and, mixed in between the advertisements and donation requests, you see your name and address hand lettered on an envelope. Bonus if there is a smiley face or sticker on it. It softens your heart to realize that someone took the time to think about you, find the paper, write on it, locate a stamp, address it, walk it to the mailbox and put the flag up. It is reaching out and connecting on a different level. Now if I send my kids something in the mail, I have to text them ahead of time to tell them to keep an eye out for it because they never check their mailboxes. (That is real, metal mailboxes, not electronic ones.)
PAPER COOKBOOKS
There is a plethora of delicious looking recipes floating around on the internet. Every so often I will fire up my laptop and set it on the kitchen counter to try one of them. But then, while I am busy collecting the spices and measuring cups, the recipe times out and I have to click it back on. It stays on long enough for me to get part way through and then an add pops up that has to be deleted so I can see the recipe again. Just when my hands are covered in flour, it is time for me to scroll down to see what to do next. Finally, I am ready to put it in the oven, but wait… what temperature should I bake it at? Scroll back to the top. And so, it goes. Click, scroll, click. I miss when the entire recipe was all visible at once… on one page.
It is better to leave flour on the page than on my keyboard.
INKEY NEWSPAPERS
I miss reading the news, written on real paper. Isn’t that how it got the name news “paper” in the first place? Now I read my newspaper electronically. Yes, it is convenient and causes less waste. I can even read the local paper while I am out of town. But I miss the crackly sounds of opening it up in the morning. I even miss the smell of the fresh ink that smeared on your hands. After everyone had read it, you could cut out recipes, or a picture of a teenager that was honored in it, or a good cartoon to share with someone. Afterwards it went into a box to be used as fire starter.
When I was a kid, my dad would come home after a long day’s work and settle into his recliner to read the paper. I loved, and I mean loved, to sneak up behind him and smack the back of the newspaper to surprise him. He was always good natured about it and laughed, but as an adult, I realize how irritating that must have been. That inky black newspaper represents good memories for me, when my world was smaller, more secure and orderly. I probably won’t go back to the real paper newspaper, but I miss it.
That newspaper on the left is just waiting to be smacked. It would not have the same effect on a computer screen.
FACE-TO-FACE HELP
I miss the convenience, and connection, of having face-to-face help with things. Like with a real person. I want to see and talk to the bank teller to get my question answered, not call and go through a long list of automated questions that I have to press the correct digit for, only to end up with an automated answer that may, or may not be what I was looking for. My mom knew the bank teller’s name and would ask how her family was doing.
We mentioned to our son that we were going to go into to the bank to talk to them about an account. He was appalled. Why would you take the time to drive, park and walk into the bank to talk to a person when you could do it all online? Well, probably because it will take me twice as long to do it online. Besides, I need to hear how the teller’s family is doing.
BRICK AND MORTAR SHOPPING
I miss the tactile and visual experience of walking through the aisles of a store. It can be a feast for the senses, as you visualize the creative displays, feel the textures in your hands and observe the vibrant colors. Now, because of the online presence, many brick and mortar stores have closed or do not carry a very big selection.
When I was growing up, going shopping was an event… not just a few clicks of your fingers. My mom would plan a shopping day several weeks in advance with my sister and me. We always looked forward to going to the big city about 30 miles away and walking through the doors of The Cresent. My sister and I would beeline for the sale table where we would handle the beautiful sweaters and pick our very favorites to try on. We were each allowed to purchase one and then we would enjoy a rare lunch out with my mom. Our shopping trips together were filled with good memories that cemented our relationship. I won’t be getting that same experience when I shop online for Christmas this year.
Phones have come a long way in the last 100 years.
THE UNKNOWN
I miss not having all of the answers. Yes, you heard that right. Remember when someone threw out a question or brought up a topic and everyone would jump in to discuss and debate it together, igniting a long, healthy conversation? People would come up with suggestions or solutions. Some serious and some funny. They would debate the date that an event occurred and discuss the situation around it. Now you can barely get out the words, “I wonder…” before someone whips out their phone and looks up the answer. No time for leisurely discussion or friendly debate. The fact has been read. Boom. End of conversation.
Final thoughts
Honestly, I would never want to give up my I-phone, Kindle or computer, or even my annoying friend Alexa. But sometimes I miss a world where everything was not so quick. A world where deep thought and long-winded conversations were part of everyday life. We have created a world of efficiency at the expense of personal connection. Left unchecked, we can slip into a shell of a world that is totally focused on a screen. We have all seen the family or couple at a restaurant that are staring at their hand-held screens and hardly say two words to each other.
I don’t want to go back to living in the pre-digital age. Fortunately, we don’t have to throw the baby out with the bathwater. We can have the best of both worlds. It just takes discipline and a conscious effort to use our electronic devices purposefully and not mindlessly. There is a whole world out there of textures, colors, smells and conversations waiting to be experienced. And it beats life on a screen any day.
Moving isn’t just about a physical change of location. It often includes a change of lifestyle or embracing a new phase in life. This summer we didn’t just move from our home of 24 years; we also moved to a different lifestyle. We moved from our wonderful deep-rooted memories enmeshed in the large home where we raised our kids while balancing our busy careers to our current lifestyle as retired, empty nesters. It wasn’t just about the physical location; it was about shedding our old selves in order to embrace our new selves.
Our new home is smaller and much closer to town. It has an open floor plan to accommodate larger family gatherings. Instead of sitting up on a hill, it is tucked in the bay of a small lake. Instead of being up a long gravel driveway, it is on a paved (albeit busy) country road, just two minutes from town. It is also coming full circle for me. You see, I grew up on the very property where we built our new home. This was no ordinary move.
Settle in for a story
Over 65 years ago my grandpa acquired several acres of property through a bartering deal with a couple of widows, when times were tough and people worked with what they had available. My grandpa was a skilled carpenter, and these two widows needed a new roof put on their house. They did not have the money to pay him, but they did have some property that they would trade him for his skills. It was a lovely piece of ground on a small lake. My grandpa built a house on the hill and gave my parents the piece down by the water.
It was here, on a section of this property that my dad and grandpa built the beautiful, two-bedroom, one bath home that my five siblings and I grew up in. Back then money was tight, so they did the work themselves and bartered for jobs they could not do. They hauled logs from the hillside, which served as both the framing and exterior walls. They brought in a small mill to cut the knotty pine walls, trim and cupboards for the interior. They used layers of cardboard for insulation. My dad hauled rock to make the cement walks. It was a labor of love, done on a shoestring.
One of the first winters in their new home. You can see my brothers looking out the window.
It was such a wonderful place to be a kid, with the lake in front of the house and the Portal to the magical forest behind it. We grew up playing king of the mountain on a large inner tube while balancing on the waves in the summer and skating on the lake under the moon in the winter. We invented our own games and made houses out of limbs and rocks. My siblings and I are still close. Perhaps because we shared such a small space growing up. We did not care because it was packed with love, security and warmth. Life was good.
Even my kids have great memories visiting my parents over the holidays and spending many a Christmas Eve in that little lake house, crowded in between their cousins eating from the huge buffet of food and opening gifts. This cozy knotty pine home was part of their history too.
The house as I remember it growing up (left). We ate many meals out on that picnic table. The house in its heyday (right). The sunroom was added on years later.
Fast forward
Several years ago, my mom had some health issues, so she and my dad decided to move to a 55+ neighborhood in town. My 98-year-old dad still lives in their house in town. The little house on the lake sat vacant for a few years and then served as temporary housing for a couple of their grandkids. However, it was slowly deteriorating. It was weighing on my dad, so after my mom passed, he gifted the house and surrounding property to his children. Everyone was reluctant to take on the house. It was an archive of good memories, but very difficult to live in. And it needed a ton of work.
This all occurred during a time when Mr. U and I were considering downsizing and moving closer to town. I had a few “musts” for any future home we moved to. One being that it needed to have two bathrooms. (I know, first world problems. Or, more likely, it is from sharing one bathroom with seven other people all of those years growing up.) I also wanted a creative workspace/office. Lastly, we wanted enough room to entertain our large family, but not so big it was hard to maintain. We were supposed to be downsizing, after all. Then… the little lake house became an option.
The little lake house sat vacant for a few years.
Could we take on the house and the major project needed to renovate it? The property is beautiful, and my dad really wanted it to stay in the family. The timing was right for us, so we decided to tackle it. Our initial intent was to do a major remodel and add on. But as we started to explore the structure of the house, we realized that the log walls would not be able to continue to support it for long. The very logs that were holding the house up (and served as the framing and exterior walls) were rotting away, as was the wood under the eaves. And don’t even get me started on all of the codes and restrictions for a house that is tucked between the water and a county road.
We were stuck in a pickle. It would have been almost impossible to save the current structure, and yet, I wasn’t sure I had it in me to totally rebuild the house that held so many good memories. However, we could not live in it the way it was either. It was a heartbreaking decision. The worst part was that, to an outsider at a distance, it looked fine. Why would we take down a perfectly good house?
Sadly, the logs that held the house up were rotting away.
After many tears and discussions with family members, we decided it was time to let the house go and rebuild. As one of my brothers reminded me, it wasn’t the structure as much as the surrounding area and lake that held so many wonderful memories for us. And while my dad would have liked for the house to stay exactly the same, as he remembered it all of those years, he said it had served its purpose and gave us the green light to rebuild.
Building a shell for new memories
Once the difficult decision was made, it was easier to move forward with the build. However, either I had forgotten about the stress of building, or it is just that I am getting older, but it was not an easy project. It did not help that I wanted to retain some of the structure of the old house into the new one, such as building an accent wall with some of the beautiful old knotty pine paneling that my dad and grandpa milled and using an odd sized exterior door that my grandpa had salvaged and used in the log house. Thank goodness we had a very patient contractor.
Rebuilding the little lake house. The contractor made an accent wall using the pine paneling from the previous house. Mr. U built a bench from the wood and used the previous pine fireplace mantel as a shelf. We still need to add coat hooks (left). Mr. U and I laboriously sanded down the old door from the previous home and had it stained before adding it to the new build.
Modern version of the old lake house
We still have a ton of outdoor work to do, but we plan to return the place back to its former glory during its heyday years.
This fall we sold The House that Built a Family and moved into our “little lake house.” Now this shell is patiently waiting to be transformed from a house into a home. It is waiting for family gatherings, BBQ’s, grandchildren playing, and lots of cozy evenings tucked in by the fire. It takes a lot of living and building memories to transform a house into a home. So now we are in the process of building new memories on a solid foundation of love and a life lived well at this spot by the lake.
Little lake life then and now.
Final thoughts
What a gift to be back living on this little lake. Of course, in my naivety of the 1960’s I did not fully appreciate what we had… I do now. It was here that I first learned the importance of being surrounded by family and how being wrapped in love soothes the inevitable wounds of life. I learned how spending time in nature heals our souls. This very place shaped who I am. I will be forever grateful to my mom and dad for being able to grow up at this little lake and now returning to live out our retirement years here.
Mornings are cool and crisp with a layer of fog, the leaves are turning bright orange, red and yellow, the tamarack trees are taking on a golden hue, and the geese are honking as they head south. Summer has given way to fall. And autumn whispers a quiet “hello, slow down and enjoy me.” This season of color brings some of my favorite things.
The soup is on
I miss soup in the summer. I am not a big fan of gazpacho. It is not that I dislike the taste; it just feels wrong to eat cold soup. So, when autumn arrives, I am ready to fire up the soup pot. It is one of life’s little delights to come home on a chilly afternoon to the aroma of soup simmering in the crockpot. Bonus that dinner is already prepared.
Squash soup simmering before it gets pureed into a wonderful bowl of yummy.
Oktoberfests and street fairs
Is there anything more festive than a fall street market or festival? It is a feast for the senses with the aroma of pumpkin doughnuts in the air, and colorful textured gourds and corn stocks decorating every corner. Grab a cup of steaming hot cider and wander around. While spring outdoor markets boast of lively new growth, fall markets have a more subdued ambiance. They are a quiet salute to the end of the season.
Even the music is a soulful goodbye to the season.
Slash fires
Summers in the PNW get hot and dry. Not safe conditions for slash fires so there is usually a burn ban during the summer months and sometimes into early fall. But after a few rains, you can smell the earthy, pungent aroma of smoke in the air as people burn the outdoor debris from summer. These are perfect conditions to get a beverage and sit outside to do a little fire watching. A heavy-duty burning barrel came with the property, so we have been pulling up a couple of old wooden rockers next to it to enjoy late afternoons feeding it sticks, leaves and pine needles.
This heavy-duty burning barrel has come in very handy. Recipe for apple cinnamon drink is in the Apple Palooza post.
Football
Having raised four boys that all played football, I have spent a lot of time wrapped up in layers of warm clothes while sitting on unforgiving bleachers. But somewhere along the way, I grew to really enjoy football. Now football games are as much a part of fall for me as a rotund orange pumpkin. They are especially fun now that I get to watch my grandson play.
My grandson is #15 (left). I have to take a second and be a bragging proud grandma – he received the defensive player of the year award for his team (right).
Fall decorating
I enjoy decorating for the holidays, but my absolute favorite time to decorate, hands down, is fall. The oranges, golds and browns call to me. Fall is the perfect time to bring the outdoors in and decorate with nature’s palette. Autumn is a wonderful season to gather some Roadsidea to decorate with. Think acorns, water chestnuts, colorful leaves, and of course, pumpkins and gourds. We moved into our new home just in time to decorate for fall (once I unearthed the fall decor. boxes.)
Pulling out the orange for decorating.
My friend and I spent a lovely afternoon making these chubby little pumpkins. I added some roadsidea to create interest and texture to this monochromatic tablescape.
Leaf peeping
Just observing the change of the seasons is a delight. Driving around you can see bursts of colorful trees almost everywhere. It becomes a pleasure just to drive to the grocery store. But up in the mountains is where you will find the tamarack trees changing color. Tamaracks are unique because they are considered a deciduous conifer; they are the only pine trees that turn vibrant gold before they lose their needles. My dad loves these distinctive pine trees, so every fall we make a point to take him on a drive to Look Out Pass (on the border between Idaho and Montana) where there are an abundance of tamarack trees changing color.
The tamarack trees taking on a golden hue up at Look Out Pass. Notice the ones near the fog line are covered in frost. Winter is close.
Fall drives are lovely, but the best way to really sink into the colors is to walk under them. Go for a stroll around town and take in the scents of brown sugar and cinnamon with your eyes. Stop. Contemplate. Exhale. Let the quiet beauty of autumn settle into your soul.
Take a walk around town and breathe in the shades of brown sugar and cinnamon.
Autumn on the water – a new discovery
The lake changes in autumn. Summer is full of fast boats and kids splashing and laughing in the water. It is BBQs and cannonballs off of the dock. Everyone is outside enjoying the sunshine. But come fall, people crawl indoors and the quiet world outside is left for those more contemplative souls.
I have discovered foggy fall mornings out on my kayak. Life will never be the same.
“I am so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.”
Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery
And that, my friends, is autumn at its best. What a gift to be able to spend some time doing my favorite things when the weather turns cool and earth prepares to hibernate for the winter. What are some of your fall favorites that stir your senses and feed your soul? Be sure to take some time to do them before the season slips away.
Cheers to the retirement years!
Feature photo credit to Mr. U who took the picture while I paddled away into the foggy morning.
Lover of flip flops, waking up without an alarm, fireside chats, street tacos, waves lapping up on shore, creativity, family, the cork and all things garlic.
