I have been spending the past three weeks unpacking hundreds of boxes for our new home in Deep River, ON. Only this past week have I been able to unpack 1/2 of the studio boxes in the basement. I still have about 45 more to go. I can't wait to work on the rest of the house unpacking because we are having a new furnace installed on November 2, and I need my studio boxes out of the way.
In going through this process of preparing to move and moving I have felt a bit like I was in gestation while packing everything up in Cambridge, and seeing it go on the moving truck for two weeks. We arrived, and I had to prepare the new space by taking down one wall, painting the other walls and the floor, an then get things moved in. As I unpack each of the boxes and try to organize supplies, books, tools, and equipment, I feel like the birds outside who have been building their nests for winter. A twig here, a twig there, and bits of leaf to hold it all together.
I find myself filled with emotions as I pull out items I have not been able to use since early July when we knew we would be moving. Yesterday I put away my hand tools for bookbinding, and got all the shop lights hung. Each box yields bits and pieces of my studio from Clinton Street that need to find a new home. At one point this past week I realized I won't have room for some of my "inspiration" shadowboxes that I had in the old studio, and will have to work a new spot for them in someplace else in the house. Irrespective of this, each tool I put away, each piece of paper or book that finds a new home, helps me to build my nest; that warm, wonderful, peaceful place that will be the home for my artistic soul in the weeks, months, and years to come.
The great news is that I have a studio, and it is in my home, and I will be able to work in it each and every day. What a blessing from God to have space, tools, equipment, materials, and supplies to make art with within steps of where I live.
All will be well, and all will be well, and with God's great grace, all will be well.
