It didn't get cold enough on Monday night to freeze the driveway solid and we weren't prepared to attempt it if there wasn't a reasonable prospect of success.
It's a tricky thing: a single lane of long, curvy driveway where there are only two options: make it to the top to deliver the trailer and turn the truck around in the field or get stuck and back the whole way down. With a 35-foot trailer hitched behind an 18-foot-long truck.
Not for the faint of heart.
But I really, really, really want to get her in place. The fellow who's agreed to tow her for me is going away in a couple of weeks, and it's not going to get any drier or more solid up there until after the spring when we can get some work done on that stretch of driveway.
So, yesterday afternoon, some friends and I got together to shovel all the snow and ice we could out of the path, in the hopes that frozen dirt will be more solid than a mix of frozen snow and ice and dirt.
It's minus 5 degrees (Celsius) now and has been most of the night (and yes, it is 4 in the morning, I couldn't sleep) so hopefully there is something resembling a good solid road on that hill.
If you pray, please say a little prayer for us. If you're a sender of good vibes, please send them our way.
Uncertainty can be stressfulMeanwhile, I've been feeling a little stressed. It's hard to live in a state of the unknown, especially when the unknown outcome is close to one's heart. It stirs up a lot of vulnerability for me.
I've been trying to stay calm and happy. I know she'll get up there one way or another, now or in the spring. Knowing that doesn't always help, though.
So, rather than trying to pretend that I wasn't having any feelings, I put some energy into thinking about vulnerability and uncertainty, and since I know that I love the way Brené Brown talks about those things, I looked up this TED talk and watched it again. I hope you have 20 minutes, because I would like to share it with you. It seems to me to contain a simple recipe for how to live a good life, a whole-hearted life in the face of uncertainty and vulnerability (which, let's face it, crop up for a lot of us, often):
This is part of what this tiny home is about for me – shaking off the numbness of being stressed out by debt and feeling weighed down by my stuff – to take a calm, reasonable approach to living, to find a bit of discipline in a simpler life and to become more fully alive – through working harder for my necessities and being responsible: to the earth, to my heart and to my peace of mind.
This period of struggle has given my house a nameMy friend, Danette (brilliant creativity coach at The Radical Creative Sanctuary), asked me yesterday if I ever name my dwellings. I never have before. I've lived in houses with names, back in my uni residence and Campus Co-op days: McCaul House, Lowther House, Savage House, and a house we called Six-Twelve.
Through the process of the past couple of days, my thoughts on Brené Brown's research and Danette's insightful question, I'm moved to name my house and I think I've found the perfect name for her: Wholehearted House.