I'm sitting in my half empty house, with most just a few things more until I can close the door on this phase of my life. At this point it's mostly hauling things down to the curb and putting out alerts until only the truly useless remains to be hauled off to the landfill.
It's bittersweet, walking away from the dreams I had for this place. But at the same time, I find myself eager to get back to the farm without worrying about cleaning, finding roommates, fixing toilets or purging belongings. Putting seedlings in the soil is a bet on the future. Putting lumber salvaged over years onto the curb is letting go of the past. I'd rather be betting on the future.
