Leonard Cohen’s “Anthem” is often quoted. He sings Ring the bells that still can ring, Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack, a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in. My favorite version of it? Click here.

I wrote last week of being pushed to the point of breaking and being forced by my body to hold still. I think I also mentioned this, but it felt like the equivalent of a forced restart of one of my various Apple products. And it’s taken another week for all of the programs to boot back up again and download any updates. But there is something to that Cohen lyric - that’s how the light gets in.

In the aftermath of that break (for lack of a better word), there has been space again. And with space comes capacity. The capacity to plan for next season. The capacity to envision a small, Japan-inspired farmstand at the edge of the property, to think about what to plant in the field and to fill out grant paperwork for 5 new high tunnels. Yesterday, as I was chopping fresh herbs from the market, I started making a list of things for my own kitchen garden, and considering where I might plant that. I even took a few hours and figured out the best way to move forward with the bouquet club that I had absolutely no energy to continue. And what I came away with is something I am feeling excited about instead of filled with dread.

I think it’s going to take a while to process the complicated and nuanced experience of renovating this house. The physical and emotional toll that it has taken has surprised us both. And because we still are waiting on that final lending piece, it’s not over yet. But my blood pressure is better, the amount of adrenaline shooting through my system as a result of normal experiences is almost entirely diminished, and I’m this close to feeling optimism. It’s the light getting in.

It’s how the light gets in

Little Luxuries

Setting the new pace