I love to fall back to sleep to the sound of rain or the flash and rumble of a storm in the distance. Last night, however, as just how far off I laid and wondered, I was struck by the dichotomy of our new lives. I snuggled in against Jim, all warm and accepting and I was complete. Yet, I had to wonder if tonight was the night that the sweet Shull Run came out of her banks.
It was pouring again at 6am as we rolled out of bed to find out just how much rain we did get, or the more important question, how much rain did they get north east of us.
Last night was not the night that the creek ran over her banks, but we know she will, she does at least once a year.
Neither of us are afraid, we understood the risk when we moved here and through the process of downsizing on such a drastic scale, like we did, we understand the things we brought here are just things and though irreplaceable they are not what we hold dear. When Shull Run comes out of her banks, if it is with force, as I am sure she is capable of; this Little White House is in jeopardy, the creek runs right under it. She has come out of the banks with such force in the past that the kitchen no longer sits on solid supports. We can do our best to re-build the support the house needs, but the natural course of Shull Run will eventually take this piece of land and the adorable house that sits here now.
I believe we are incredibly blessed to be on this adventure. We are excited to see what living this intimately with nature has in store for us and this little slice of perfection at the bottom of a ravine someplace in Pennsylvania.