our tiny home


(i had wondered in the past if it would be too hard, my brother Greg asked me the other night, but it is only 800 Sq feet and i can see all of it from any one spot, well i cannot see through the floor but that part upstairs is only 200 of those 800 and the wood work plus built in book case and cabinets and desk and drawers all in either cherry or Doug Fir are Tom's work so how on earth could I not!?!?!?!?)


(here is a poem that stops me in  my tracks:  in the wonderful book if you are in my spot, and i hope you are not, but if you are do try to find the title, The Wild Edge Sorrow by Francis Weller - 
For Those Who Have Died, Eleh Ezkerah—-These We Remember




’Tis a fearful thing
To love
What death can touch.
To love, to hope, to dream,
And oh, to lose.


A thing for fools, this,
Love,
But a holy thing,
To love what death can touch.


For your life has lived in me;
Your laugh once lifted me;
Your word was a gift to me.


To remember this brings painful joy.


’Tis a human thing, love,
A holy thing,
To love
What death can touch

—Judah Halevi or Emanuel of Rome; 12th Cent.)