Last spring, I think, is when we had a discussion with Heather’s father Bill about moving back to Onondaga Hill. Bill’s got a bad hip and has figured out the house there, which we lived in during 2002-3 when Bill’s father Marty owned and lived in it, and its property are too much for him to deal with. What was said then was that it’d be made available to us before the snow flew again.
Snow has flown.
(Nothing that’s really accumulated at all, though we had a storm today that jittered between snow, sleet, hail, and rain, and up on the Tug Hill Plateau they were forecast to get about a foot of accumulation. Also: wind. None of our trees are down, yet, that I know of.)
Part of the problem is that the house and the machine shed are full of things of Marty’s that Marty has no use for any more, and his kids — mainly the daughters, Bill got the house — need to divide the stuff up and remove it. But one of them lives in the Netherlands and didn’t come to America for a visit until this past month, and another was going through a divorce, and… so anyway, they were here dividing up stuff last weekend and the weekend before. Except somehow they didn’t get the memo that they were supposed to get it out of there, too, by the end of October.
And it’s not clear they’ve really settled who’s getting what, anyway.
So: here we still are, with winter coming. We like the house here, and the property, and basically everything except that it’s too damn far from Syracuse. When we moved here Heather was in nursing school and we thought she’d probably get a job around here, and Kenny would go to school here, and I’d be the only one having to make the long commute. Now Heather’s working in Syracuse, and Kenny after a rough year of public kindergarten is in a private school in Syracuse, so we’re all making the trip. About 35 miles each way. Even when we all travel together in the Prius, which we do when we can but often we can’t, that’s a lot of gas, a lot of mileage on the car, and a lot of time not at home not able to do stuff that needs doing, let alone stuff we want to do. Our friends are in Syracuse. The stores we like are in Syracuse. Cultural events are in Syracuse. Thirty-five miles away from Syracuse is the wrong place for us to be.
So, we’re beginning to sort through things, beginning to pack, getting ready to move out when the house becomes available. We moved in winter last time, and that’s a pain. But we’ll do it again… if it doesn’t take Bill’s sisters until spring to get their stuff out.