I am sitting at my desk.

I could make a list of everything on my plate that feels more urgent than this: this moment, at my desk, taking time to put down the words that have been circling in my head for months. Maybe longer.

More urgent. More useful. More practical. More important.

I’ve been absent from this blog for so long that it no longer feels necessary to apologize. You weren’t expecting me, so I need not apologize for being late.

Instead I will just be back. Slipping into my own absence, checking to see if things are as I left them.

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John and I finally bought the ranch this year. Without much fanfare, failing even to pop the bottle of fancy sparkling wine that we had tucked into the fridge for the occasion, we shifted from renters to owners (or, at least, mortgage holders) and began chipping away at the most unsexy list of projects you can imagine. Addressing drainage issues, water damage. Repainting. Reorganizing.

Day by day, moment by moment, progress began taking shape, first with the items that couldn’t wait (flooding in the basement every time it rained was getting beyond old) and then with the changes that brought us closer to our goals.

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Offering our guest house on Airbnb has been a goal of mine for a long time.

For years, I’ve heard this place described as “magic” by those who visit. Friends or acquaintances would come, and they would tell me that everything seems a little more real out here. That this place and the animals, the woods and trees and sunsets offered up a reminder to settle in. To breathe. They would leave more relaxed than they came and tell me that the hours they spent here offered respite from the worries of their daily life.

That experience has always seemed like such a sacred thing to be able to share.

Once we held the mortgage on the ranch, we started working towards sharing it.

Since April, I’ve been chipping away at all the work that needed done. The house needed paint inside and out. The floors needed to be refinished. The roof, per insurance requirements, required replacement. For months, all my time and all our money poured through the little guest cottage at the edge of the woods, and we come closer to our goal by inches. Even now, I’m waiting on to hear from our contractor on three remaining window replacements. Just today, I ordered gravel and sand so we can finish out a patio.

It’s getting close.

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The guest house is small, about 750 square feet, but it feels bigger when there is no longer an inch of it I haven’t touched. Every step of the way, I found myself making decisions about the space I wanted to curate. I changed the colors on the walls inside and out. Brightened the ceilings. Chose new stain for the original 1940s wood flooring. I picked new light fixtures and blinds. New entry doors. New hardware. A new vanity.

It feels like an entirely new place, and I can see myself in every decision.

Here’s something I didn’t expect: the whole process felt incredibly vulnerable, and it gets more and more that way the closer we come to finishing. The more that I changed, the more the little house began to feel like a reflection of me.

Last weekend, I sat on the floor framing art prints while John worked on putting in a new light fixture. I flipped through the prints I bought, flowers on vintage book pages, and reflected on an observation a friend had recently made (Paige, I hope you don’t mind that I quoted you): “This project is the perfect intersection of your passions. English. Gardening. Vintage craftmanship. Nature. It’s the perfect Cherity piece.”

I had wondered if anyone would notice.

I stacked those prints next to the already framed photos of my critters and began drafting in my mind the gallery wall where they would meet.

There’s a vulnerability in creating a space like this. I suppose plenty of people can probably do it without pouring out so much of themselves, but, for me, it feels like an offering. Here. See this place I love. Here. See these things I find beauty in. Here. Share the joy I’ve found here. Here. Take a deep breath and let yourself settle in.

I’ve been surprised by this place and this process. By how different it feels to build something like this from the ground up. It feels so wholly new.

Soon it will be live, and we will share it, but, for now, I thought you might like in on my latest adventure.

I hope to have more to say soon, but either way, it’s nice to be back in my little corner of the internet. I hope this finds you well.

All my love ~ Cherity (AlmostFarmgirl)