George Walker: Leech finders, Plate 35 (1814)
Engraver: R. & D. Havell

"We mostly avoided going that way."

The transition from seekers to Finders felt abrupt. After weeks of fruitless seeking, we became Finders one early Sunday morning in May. We had almost overstayed our welcome in our temporary housing, for our search had apparently been unusually fruitless. The Muse pleaded for an extension, which was granted, but we were already more than ready to regain access to our stuff and move out of that high-rise. We had taken to cruising our chosen destination on weekends. The Muse with her Blackberry at the ready, refreshing CraigsList postings, so we were around the corner when our new home's listing first appeared. We were there in seconds. The owners had recruited the neighbor to show the place. They'd relocated to The Hague for the wife's job. The neighbor and I turned out to be brothers from different mothers. We instantly hit it off, and he became our champion. We learned later that he called the owners when we left to tell them that the right tenant had just left. He implored them to say "Yes," that they wouldn't ever be sorry for a second. They weren't.

A financial and credential check was still required. We'd just survived bankruptcy, which headed the list of suspicious evidence we provided. We were honest and open about it, though, offering the information without apparent concern or coercion. We'd either be approved or not, but nothing could change the circumstances. After a few days spent sweating bullets, we were accepted. We would be unable to move in for six weeks, though, since the current renters would have to move and the place cleaned. We'd already received an extension on our temporary housing, so we had nothing to do but wait to take possession. The Muse had her new job to amuse her, but I found myself without a primary occupation since my job had been seeking a place to live. I volunteered to help the landlords, who returned for a few days to put the place in order, finish one last yard cleaning before we moved in. I had been aching to sink my hands into dirt and welcomed the opportunity to learn from the owners what they wanted me to do to preserve their property.

The yard was almost woodland. It featured a couple of bark-dusted trails in the back, one leading to a bricked patio featuring a pergola along the back fence. It had a wooden porch swing hung from a beam. A narrow cleared spot served as a back porch just outside the living room's South-facing windows. That wall had been designed to shade the full summer sun but allow the lower winter sun to shine inside, where the floor, a massive radiant-heated concrete heat sink, warmed or cooled depending upon the season. The front yard featured a few bushes but mainly required clearing out a couple of times a year. The Pokeweed and ivy would overwhelm the place unless whacked down regularly. The roof over the living room was a living roof, covered with succulents and small flowering plants. It needed weeding a couple of times yearly to prevent fallen acorns from growing into oak trees. It also wanted the fallen leaves blown off come autumn. I gained access by awkwardly crawling out one of the master bedroom's windows.

We would move in July first. Our GrandOtter (granddaughter) Sara would come for her usual summer visit just before the move, then stay for a few weeks. Even before we'd successfully moved in, our lives felt like they were settling back into a more familiar rhythm. Our new neighbor, Clair, kept us informed and enrolled us in the local listserv. We were even invited to the neighborhood's 4th of July party. I spent some time before we moved in familiarizing myself with the new neighborhood. I'd walked some of it before we found the place, but once anchored, I could roam in discrete directions to see whatever there was to see there. There was plenty to see.

The house was about a twenty-minute walk from the Metro station. If we were running late, it was more like thirty minutes, though, if lucky, a bus might quickly whisk us to the station. Along the way, depending on our chosen route, we'd pass our local co-op three blocks along, then a Subway shop and a Middle Eastern Restaurant with a tavern in the back. A one-off music store shop called The House of Musical Traditions was just across the street and down half a block. The best video store ever devised was there, too, where the tapes were displayed in Director order. There were two banks, a hardware store, and several other quirky shops, along with a CVS. Overall, a decent downtown where if we couldn't find something, we might not have needed it. The other route to the Metro took us by the city hall and the local library, then up a long and altogether too steep hill. We mostly avoided going that way. It was rather scary after dark.

©2024 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #Exiled, #PureSchmaltz