Trusting oneself

"A sign of God is that we were led to a place we did not intend to go."

I am living out in the country, my Gullah neighbor Fred reminds me. On a wide, soft dirt road, surrounded by more trees and birds, and deer than people. The rural part is more important I think than the ocean part. But living here is surprising me in ways I did not expect. In six weeks my perspective has shifted.

Yesterday my copy of Living Magazine arrived. I have always admired Martha Stewart's creativity, drive and love of beauty. But the pictures in it, as I sat looking at it yesterday while I waited my turn at the driver's licensing office in the nearby town, is so fancy now, and the images looked a little foreign. My eyes see anew. For real! I have new people in my life bearing gifts of time and talent. I need less than I ever imagined and happiness is noticing that the birds begin singing only as the first light gently begins in the trees, watching frogs, feeling the wind pick up with the tide.

Trusting in the call, I suppose, was the most difficult part of getting here, which took me 18 months. I doubted my commitment to this land when it was a struggle. But being here is one of the most reassuring feelings I can remember. I am simply filled with awe at my good fortune on this summer morning.

Today began rainy. The little shed I am calling RedTop was supposed to get a 'lean-to' but hey, will they come, risk being rained out? The workers drive in from a little town an hour away. Turns out the rain just teased us and tonight my little addition is nearly finished. I will be so happy to have a place for paint cans and bug spray.

Learned two big things in the last two days. The tide ebbs and flows. In and out. When you walk out and the mosquistos are crazy, the tide is sitting....about to change....... so there is no wind.

I have a new riding tractor today. She is cherry red. Got her on Saturday. Tonight at about 7 I cranked her up for the first time, and oh my goodness, how fun and easy and useful this cherry red baby is.

I am blessed and grateful.

Surprised by Joy

"If a man set out from home on a journey and kept on going, he would come back to his own front door." - Sir John Mandeville, 14th century

Feels like home on this little island. I do not have a house but this feels like the years of my early childhood on the rural land outside of Mooresville, North Carolina. Edisto feels like the 50's again. Simple things like needing your neighbors (and trust me, I do), the two lane roads, the garden, the great outdoors, and well, less STUFF. The last few years in the United States were a gilded age I suppose, with mansions and massages and money flowing everywhere. The Great Recession, as I hear them calling it, put some brakes on the love of so much stuff perhaps. It did it for me. Even I got carried away on ebay bargains. (I could curate a show on paint by number paintings of the 50's which charm me and make me smile with their great ironies) My bills are now just for the land and the electricity mainly: my monthly expenses have been reduced by more than half. I have a little savings, thank goodness, but mostly dreams for the future.

I am surprised by the feelings that being on the little island has engendered, however. It feels intimate and interesting, and satisfying. It is life at its basics. The sounds of nature, the amazing painted bunting birds at the feeder, the deer in the yard, the little tree frogs having bug dinner on the window of Rosy over my supper table. Good simple butterbeans and a fresh tomato for dinner. Surprised by Joy was the name of the book by CS Lewis and a poem by Wordsworth. It means new things to me today. In the heat of the summer, I am surprised by such a welcome as this.

Edisto as Eden Isle

The moon is almost full and I awoke last night to see blue light splashed all over the grass outside Rosy's window. The frogs are still croaking from the rainstorm we had last night. I had forgotten to close the doors to the shed, so I had to wrap myself in a towel to run the 10 yards to secure the double door, in the rain. Rainstorms here are no mild thing here on the island, and I returned soaked by the buckets of water dropping from the sky. How grateful Rosy is dry and lit. Beau, the dog, was shaking and diving for cover. During the night the sky cleared, as most storms do, and the stars came out. There is something very powerful about living inside this natural world, about not being so insulated by housing that barricades me from the outside. It feels like something we humans need more of to be content. I cannot remember enjoying my life so much as I am right now. It feels challenging, and this more simple life requires of me. Meeting the challenge is essentially a human need I am coming to believe. The sun is waking the birds now. I understand Mary Oliver's poems in a new way. This is my painting called "Edisto as Eden Isle".

" the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. A whole stream of events issue from the decision, raising one's favor all manner of unforseen incidents, mettings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamt would have come his way." - the mountaineer William Hutchinson Murray

This are my first tomatoes. I am so happy the deer have decided to let me keep them (they have eaten the rose blossoms instead). Last night I had a big plate of fresh tomatoes (from the next door neighbors) and my own basil, drizzled with olive oil. I now have fresh frozen corn in the little freezer.

My new friend Ike came yesterday and built the box steps of the the shed I am calling RedTop. They are exactly like the photograph I showed him and I am thrilled. He helped me fix the front door too, which was coming apart. Now the lock works well, and the metal and trim is newly secured. Funny, how wonderful the tiny successes are when all things are essential in your living environment. I like this life and I am as happy as I can remember. It is simple and I am lacking only perhaps in access to my library of books. But having DSL here in Rosy is almost as good. I do not miss the television at all. I feel just full of gratitude and faith today.

It is the 4th of July. The island is sunny and there's a breeze. My neighbor, Fred, brought me a watermelon, and some corn and tomatoes. He picked produce for one of the island growers yesterday. What a terrific day yesterday was!

I have a new friend who came and helped me get the resolve the most pressing need: it seems as the air conditioner on top of my little RV named Rosy is placed in the center of the roof, right over the door. Since the awning was not extended due to some wind damage last summer, water was dripping on my head every time I entered the door. The dog was bringing muddy footprints in, and cleaning the floor every minute was getting old. I met my friend Ike in the building supply about a month ago. He is a renovation contractor and works on the old Plantation houses on the island. I went in to ask around to see if they could help me discover how to secure my soon to arrive 8ft x 14ft shed, just in case high winds came this season. He happened to be there buying something, and the saleswoman pointed to him. I call it serenidity.

He graciously drove by and called me in Charlotte in early June to confirm the news when I heard that my little red tinned house was indeed there already. (I had not paid the kind gentleman I contracted with to build it, so I was surprised. I like this on trust way of doing business. How refreshing!) Yesterday afternoon, Ike had some free time in the afternoon and stopped and carefully examined my problem. Slowly, and step by step, he figured out each piece of the puzzle, and we succeeded in unrolling the awning and after a trip to the hardware store, we created an in ground securing system and even a new direction for any future water. I am thrilled. Today I sit inside in the shade with only my fans on - it is only 88 degrees today, hurray. People are like this out here. Is it a country thing? Or a southern kindness. For whatever reason, I feel quite blessed by grace.