WITCH WAY DO WE DIG? BREAKING GROUND AT LAST

I had imagined breaking ground would feel magical – sunlight streaming down, birds chirping. Instead, it came with the roar of a bulldozer, the smell of diesel, and me questioning every decision I have ever made. It literally looked like a giant cat had gone rogue with its litter box.

Of course, nothing ever goes exactly as planned. Within the first hour, we learned that dirt has personality. A very stubborn, cranky personality. Apparently, our soil, or what we had of it had opinions about being moved, and the construction crew kindly explained terms like “fill dirt” and “compaction”, while I nodded like I totally understood and secretly wondered if this was a setup for a bad dad joke.

Sam, naturally, was calm and collected. He stood there with his hands in his pockets, looking every bit the patient foreman. Meanwhile, I was taping off pine trees that I did not want removed and threatening to take the keys from the bulldozer operator if he touched what I deemed irreplaceable foliage.

And the cats? Raven stared at the chaos like she was plotting world domination, while Freya flicked her tail in disgust. If the dirt didn’t come with heated flooring, she clearly wasn’t interested.

The one thing we all agreed on from Sam and I, to the cats, to the construction crew, was that the weather was NOT going to cooperate for at least the first half of this adventure. The torrential downpours and the heat made the challenges more challenging.

Here’s the thing about building a house in your fifties: You start to notice that both you and the construction equipment have a lot in common. The bulldozer creaks, I creak. The backhoe takes a while to warm up, so do my hips.

There is a special kind of patience required at this stage of life. Twenty years ago, I might have run screaming about every scoop of dirt. Now? I sip my coffee, raise an eyebrow, and mutter, “Well, let’s hope the foundation goes faster than my metabolism.”

THE WRAP UP –

So here we are…. muddy boots, sparkly dreams and one giant piece of earth full of rocks/boulders that is supposed to become a house. It’s equal parts magical and messy, like most things worth doing in midlife.

Next up: pouring the foundation. Until then, we’ll be keeping the coffee flowing, the cats supervising and the magic alive – one muddy step at a time.