I suspect we have moved a few more times over the years than the average household.
The current re-shuffle has some interesting elements.
Jim has a truck and trailer--the Amish family have ample man-power.
Whenever we convey a load of items to store in the basement of the Amish farmhouse, the Miller men convene to carry boxes, bins and furniture out of the trailer.
This done, they quickly begin to load up items from the two large leather shops or the two houses--all of which must eventually be relocated.
One of the more picturesque items we've ever moved is Dan Miller's buggy.
This handsome piece of equipment spent the night on the truck and then was conveyed to the new residence of Dan and his family.
Supplies and tools from the leather works are being deposited in what used to be our hay barn--soon to be remodeled into a large and efficient shop.
I have rather given up on the sorting and reorganizing which I hoped to do.
Whatever space is empty in the trailer is being stuffed with bins and boxes--out of season clothes, and bed linens, stacks of books, piles of unrelated oddments.
I mentioned to Mose Miller this afternoon as we trundled some of our chattel into the newly vacated 'big house' that whenever I attempt a project I find that something I need has gone away
to a different place.
"I know that feeling," responded Mose.
The weather is sulking with chill rain, leaden skies, nights that draw darkly in before suppertime.
After crisply golden days we are now experiencing the drab aspect of November.
I squelched out to the desolate garden at noon to pick side shoots of broccoli.
Lunch was cream of broccoli soup with a melting of sharp cheddar, and popovers, hot and buttery.
It is weather for thick socks and a fleecy 'hoodie.'
The cats find warm places, ranging themselves on the basement staircase to bask in the heat rising from the wood stove.
I prepare meals, do laundry, hover over my belongings as they are carried out to the trailer.
We are poised on the edge of changes--marking time.