A Different Kind of Progress

Today was different.

For the first time in quite a while...

I actually slept in.

I woke up around 9:30 and, for once, didn't feel the need to jump out of bed the second my eyes opened.

Wyatt, of course, had other ideas.

He sat there staring at me, waiting for me to start the day.

I let him outside, climbed back into bed for a few more minutes, and opened the curtains.

Almost immediately I spotted hummingbirds darting around the feeders hanging from the apple trees.

A few moments later, one beautiful female flew right up to the feeder mounted on the window.

She hovered there long enough for me to simply enjoy the moment.

I've realized those quiet mornings have become one of my favorite parts of living here.

Not because anything exciting happens.

Because, for just a few minutes, the world seems to slow down.

Today had a very specific mission.

No tractor.

No demolition.

No hauling logs.

No cleaning up brush.

Today was simply...

Cleaning day.

I loaded the truck with just about everything that could be washed.

Laundry.

Door mats.

Area rugs.

Shower mats.

Wyatt's blankets.

Wyatt's towels.

If it was made of fabric, it was probably riding into town with me.

While everything was washing, I treated myself to a couple slices of pizza at the local pizza shop.

Nothing fancy.

Just one of those little routines that somehow makes laundry day a little more enjoyable.

After lunch, I moved everything into the dryers and made one more stop at Walmart for a few odds and ends before heading back to Memory Lane.

Once I got home, the cleaning continued.

I swept the floors.

Mopped everything.

Wiped down the counters.

Put all of the freshly washed rugs and mats back where they belonged.

Then I sat on the couch for a little while and admired how different the camper felt.

There's something about walking into a freshly cleaned space.

It doesn't change the size of the room.

It doesn't make anything newer.

But somehow everything just feels lighter.

Living in a camper means every little thing is noticeable.

When it's messy, it feels messy.

When it's clean, it feels peaceful.

After relaxing for a bit, Wyatt and I took a walk up Memory Lane.

The property has changed so much since we first arrived back in April.

Sometimes I catch myself looking at everything that still needs to be done.

Other times I remember to look back at everything we've already accomplished.

Today was one of those days.

When we got back, I decided to borrow one of my partner's favorite tools.

Her weed puller.

With the mower still broken, the weeds around camp have really started taking over.

I figured I'd make a dent in them.

Unfortunately, the battery had other plans.

It died after I cleared only about twenty percent of the weeds.

Still...

Twenty percent is a whole lot better than zero percent.

I found the charger, plugged the battery in, and decided tomorrow might be another weed pulling day.

I know it'll make me feel better.

Over the past couple of weeks I've realized something about myself.

I like seeing progress.

Sometimes it's a freshly mowed lawn.

Sometimes it's a cleaned up campsite.

Today...

It was simply a clean camper and a few less weeds.

Progress doesn't always have to be measured in huge projects.

Sometimes it's measured in clean floors, fresh laundry, and checking a few small things off the list.

Before long I headed outside and grabbed Wyatt's favorite toy.

He never says no to a game of fetch.

Well...

Almost never.

With today's heat and humidity, even he wore himself out pretty quickly.

Then the weather changed.

The rain rolled in.

Thunder echoed across the hills.

And just like that, Wyatt disappeared into his little safe corner in the bedroom.

If you've followed our journey for a while, you already know that's the one thing that still scares him.

Rain?

No problem.

Snow?

I bet he will love it.

Mud?

Even better.

Thunder?

Not a chance.

While we waited for the storm to pass, I reheated the leftovers from last night's dinner and called it a night.

There won't be a fire this evening.

The rain has taken care of that decision for me.

And honestly...

That's okay.

Not every day has to be filled with major accomplishments.

Some days are simply about taking care of the things that quietly support all the bigger projects.

Clean clothes.

Clean floors.

A tired dog.

A full stomach.

And another peaceful evening at Memory Lane.

Sometimes...

That's more than enough.

~ Making Memories