Corks + Caftans

Scenes from a new life.

24 Comments

Apologies for the prolonged absence, my wine-loving compadres. We have a multitude of excellent excuses! Allow me to share some thoughts and photos from the first 3 days on the mountain.

You know, moving can be terrible, but it can also be baptizing. I wrote a friend a letter the other day, someone who is going through some big changes too, and made an effort to sniff out how I felt about this move:

I was always alone that summer, something I take in stride anyway, so it was less the being alone and more the conclusions I came to in that solitude that indicated a shift. I distinctly remember standing barefoot in the sandy road between two tall hedgerows. I’d walk down it numerous times a day, padding on the cool dirt, midway to where the brick columns of the old ruins could be seen just inside the overgrowth. In the yellow light, a cloud of fat bumblebees undulated above the top of the hedge. You couldn’t get away from them. All day they droned on. When it was just quiet enough to find my own thoughts—to seek out the source of the melancholy—there they were, those goddamned bees. They had the house closed in.

You can hide in your head, you know. But not with bees. Now, when I sense something big’s about to happen, I long for that hum. I wish I could tap the side of my head and make them start up. Wipes the mental slate, you know what I mean? Drowns it all out.

So today I tried to find that quiet change, somewhere in the noise of all the obvious change. I can’t be sure, but I feel like it might be a shift toward simplicity. Living simply… a simple life. It’s been a long time coming.

[My new ‘office’ view does not suck.]

I’m so happy I’m here. I’m happy this change was pressed into my palm like a wafer during communion—and I’ve accepted it with all the curious uncertainty I do under the hot lights of the altar. Things are moving along swimmingly, in the midst of a huge, protracted snowstorm that’s bound my parents in with me for the next few days. I’m nesting like mad and simultaneously cutting out the clutter I’ve accumulated over the years.

[My new office mate who guards my tea cup.]

Oh… and today is my birthday. My thirtieth birthday. I have to say—thirty feels good. If someone had told me it’d feel this good, I’d have stopped trying to cram so much in during my twenties.

E is adapting well, of course:

As am I:.

And I’m insanely productive working from home, with the soft plucking of J. Tillman in the background:

Tucking treasured mementos around the house makes it feel like home, like this note from my mom circa 1996:

When we first arrived, I bounded up the stairs with the sheepskin under my arm and laid it down in front of the fire. Rob later admitted he had a bit of a bet going that that would be the first thing I did in the house. Then we both ran outside into the night and tinkled side by side into the snow, laughing uproariously.

Thanks for coming along for the ride with us on this. Looking forward to getting settled and back to scheduled programming! Once I figure out which bin has my fox stole in it.

-Carey

Comments

  3. Megan says

    Happy birthday!! I hope you have a great day – from the looks of it, that won’t be a problem. Glad to see the move went well and you’re settling in nicely…..and…..is that a waffle fry? I have a sudden craving for chic-fil-a now. hmm…..

    Reply

  7. Jen says

    Happy happy birthday!

    I love Vermont and would LOVE to move there!!

    That sheepskin rug looks like the happiest place on earth ; )

    Reply

  9. merciblahblah says

    Happy happy birfday – you deserve it! Your writing is so beautiful. I love your descriptions – it’s like reading a great book. Congrats and good luck in VT. And you’re right – the view from your office does not suck at ALL. Lucky girl!

    merci,
    Shannan

    Reply

  11. Carrie says

    I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, but I’m kind of tearing up.

    Happy Happy Birthday to you, Carey! I loved to read your words and experience the sense of calm that came with them. All the best to you in your 30th year, my friend. You’ve already got it made: Rob, Eli, sheepskin, tea guarder, and working from home – with one incredible view, too, I might add.

    ps-I think that note from your mom is one of the sweetest things I’ve ever seen.

    xo,
    Carrie

    Reply

  15. Julie says

    Happy Birthday! Have you ever read Woodswoman: Living Alone in the Adirondack Wilderness, by Anne LaBastille? Seems like it would be a good fit for this transition.

    Reply

  16. mickie says

    Your new office DOES NOT SUCK! Your letter is BEAUTIFUL! YOU are beautiful! I am so THRILLED for you three ;0)

    PEACE and LOVE,
    mickie

    Reply

  19. Amber says

    How did I miss this post yesterday??? Happy Birthday!!!!!!!! Congrats on the big move- your new home looks so cozy already!!! Xo

    Reply

  20. Victoria says

    Carey,

    Happy birthday from a total stranger who girl crushes on you. For your birthday and to celebrate your big move, I tried to track down the lyrics from my 5th grade choir’s hit number “think snow”. Tons of irony there given the fact I grew up in Buffalo and we didn’t have to “think snow” at all. Here are the lyrics I can remember after all these years:

    think snow
    and then before you know
    soon the snowflakes will appear

    think snow
    and then before you know
    you’ll be flying through the frosty air

    picture yourself speeding down that mountain
    can’t you just feel yourself go
    we’re in the lead as you pick up speed, now
    all we need is a little snow!

    Victoria
    http://diva-in-distress.blogspot.com

    Reply

    • Corks and Caftans says

      So awesome. I don’t know the melody, so I’m going to sing these words along to “Nobody Does It Better” while I shovel the driveway!!

      Reply

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