Monday, February 22, 2016

Back in Time

My childhood home, just after it was built

We've lived in the Vintage House for almost a month now.  I'm slowly adjusting to a different pace of life and the quiet.  Our water comes from a well that produces three gallons an hour.  There is a septic tank that will have to be pumped and we drive our garbage to the recycling center weekly.  

All these things are stirring memories of my childhood.  I grew up on 80 wooded acres with a well, a septic tank my dad designed (it usually worked well) and my dad took the garbage with him on his way to work to dispose of.  

To keep the drains from clogging, we dealt with things differently than one would with a town infrastructure.  My mom would scrape the plates clean after meals into the scrap bucket.  This was only after we had cleaned our plates and used up the leftovers until they were gone.  The scrap bucket was emptied every night into a pile at the edge of the yard and dogs who would be fed the good scraps.  

We kids were not allowed to flush the toilet if we only went #1 and paper was put in the garbage, not the toilet to save on the septic.  Again, this was perfectly normal to me growing up.

And then I went away to college, got married and lived in neighborhoods that were hooked up to the city.  It's so much easier not to have to scrape every scrap off.  Those pieces of food easily wash down the sink.  Garbage was taken out to the bin and tidily picked up weekly.  I flushed the toilet twice, if I wanted to.  Those rustic days of living were past.

And then my husband and I moved to the Vintage House.  I am once again scraping plates clean, but into a compost bin.  I am hauling our garbage to "town" yet one thing I haven't changed.  I flush whenever I want to, including the toilet paper.  Because really, it's gross if you don't.

I am so thankful that I grew up learning how to live life more rustic.  I think it's better to start out life in less than ideal circumstances.  In a way, it made me more adaptable and knowledgeable about such things.  Of having an old shirt ready to go out and work at anytime.  Of hosing off your shoes outside before you come in from the pasture.  Of making do with the things you have instead of running into town to buy something.  

The pace is much slower here, it feels like the clocks are slow.  I get my cleaning done before 10am sometimes before 9am.  In my home in Minnesota and the apartment, it would take until noon and I don't know why.  The nights here seem endless, it takes forever for bedtime to happen.  I'm not sure why this is.  It feels like it did when I was a child, when the days would go on forever.  Odd how going backwards in modern amenities also backs up time.  

Well, it is not even close to lunch time and I'm done with my chores and now done with my blogging.  Time to go out and enjoy the day.

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