Ghost Dog And The Wobbles Of Progress

Under a darkening cloudy sky, a simple wooden Xmas tree is lit up with dots of white light

‘1/1/22 Saturday
Last night just before midnight, we strolled down the dark lane, wine glasses in hand; spotted constellations, watched distant fireworks.
This morning Dog had done several splats of foulness on the living room carpet.
HNY!
Also this morning:
In bed, chinking coffee cups, we say- what will this year bring? We hope it’s a track and a toilet shed.’

Well, we have a track on our land, all the way from top to bottom gate. It’s not as finely finished as we’d hoped, but it is here. We have a toilet shed, and it’s not the quality lumber we had hoped for, but it is built, and it will suffice.
Everything is layering up, however slow or wonky: up!

There were, too, events that we did not foresee or hope for.
The van engine blew up. We can’t fix it. No one wishes to buy it, at least not yet. It will be utilised as a winter shelter on our land until a better idea/miracle arrives. A painful chunk of land fund went to buy a replacement vehicle, which is much cheaper to run so there is an offset to that loss.
Our companion of 14 hilarious years, our Midi Dog, passed away. The floors and aromas of our home are much fresher since but we would gladly resume clean up duties if we could have her back. You know it’s love when you miss their poops. (But when I dream of her she is never sad; she is our Ghost Dog, our tail whirling emblem of joy in simple moments.)
There was the robbery, which held up work and knocked our faith in our plans.
In a category of its own, there is the acceptable slowing down of work due to Mr’s much needed knee surgery (a total knee replacement, which he will talk you through with bone saws and lump hammers, so don’t ask if you’re squeamish), from which he is currently convalescing.
It has not been easy. It has been worth it.

Would I rather we had not bought the land? Not risked failure? Sat safe in the realm of Talking About It and never known the fear of watching our dreams sink or swim? Ha!

But what do we dare hope for this year to bring?
I wish to finish writing my current novel (I have been working on this for 100 years I think), and start the next (oh, so much promise in the notes, I long to live up to this); there are two children’s books (SO MUCH FUN!) I have mostly written, it would be satisfying to send them to print too. (I want to see the faces pulled at the ridiculousness I have spawned!)
It would be marvellous of course, as well, to see more happpen on our land: to plant more trees, to grow grass on the levelled areas, ready for further adventures, for shared adventures, for all the ideas that tumble out of us- the tree houses and swimming ponds and willow tunnels and grottos and bowers and, why not, let’s build a wine cave!
But above all, Dear New Year, just bring us patience.
Bring enough good news, enough achievements.
Bring resilience.
Let us go day by day, doing the next thing, doing the best we can with what we’ve got, and feel free to let wonderful luck find us- we are always open to that, amidst these wondrous wobbles of progress.