Sneak Peek

After 23 hours of driving, a long weekend of sleep-little nights and a lot of heavy lifting, and a 3 AM flight, I am back in Des Moines, where I will be living in transition for the next little bit until I'm all wrapped up at LHF and everyone is properly trained for winter.

Turns out, I'm about to live in the most amazing place I've ever seen. Until this weekend, the most beautiful place I'd ever seen was Colorado. Imagine the mountains majesty with another hundred or so years of human habitation. Life there has mellowed, the way a very fine wine does, and picked up the unique flavors of the landscape. It's comfortable and charming. Quaint in the most genuine sense and homey. Everyone I talked to in "the Village" as the locals call Cooperstown, seemed to possess a certain contentment that carried through in their interaction with us. If I mentioned I was new to the area and looking for work every single person gave me their card and said not to hesitate to call if I needed anything. I'm excited and very well pleased by the prospect of living somewhere so amazing.

Beside the character of the place, it's just stunningly beautiful. And oh my friends, the house... Donlon Road, where my new residence is, is in the middle of pretty much nowhere, but the view from every window takes your breath away. I couldn't help but get a little giddy when I discovered our neighbors down the road have a chicken coop and let their ladies free range during the day.

I can't wait to tell you stories of all the things that are about to happen.

P.S. There's a store front in down town Cooperstown that would be just the perfect thing for my Knitting Studio. Oh such plans I have!

Cleaning Day

Today was the big switch over from the regular summer season of life on the 1900 farm to the winter dinners/enrichment season. Every room gets cleaned ceiling to floor, inside and outside of all the furniture. Oil lamps are cleaned and filled and set in place. The kitchen is scoured and emptied in anticipation of being filled with the beginnings of amazing food. All the dishes get washed and put in just the right spot on the shelf in the pantry. The cookstove gets a new coat of black and we polish all its nickel. The outcome is fresh and pretty and very very hopeful.

Anything can happen in a kitchen that clean. When a stove shines like that, it must, in fact, be a little bit magical.

The Great Eastward Migration

Putt Telfer at Kingfisher Tower, Otsego Lake Ca. 1910 Smith and Telfer Photographic Collection, New York State Historical Association, Cooperstown, N.Y.

Big changes going on here. I'm moving my yarn stash, my spinning wheel, my grandmother's sewing machine and all my fiber goodness (along with everything else I own) across the country to the beautiful state of New York.

Though I will be sad to leave the Midwest and all its expansive beauty, I'm thrilled about the move and trying to stay hopeful, despite the lack of employment prospects. I'll be moving to the Cooperstown region with Brett, a fellow (soon to be former) Living History Farms employee. Brett will be working here, by the way...

Photo courtesy flickr member Bill in STL.

After a year here in Iowa in a living history job, it'll be awesome to live somewhere with so much history so well preserved and respected. Cooperstown is utterly beautiful and we'll be living in a really big house in the middle of New York nowhere. Just we two, our three pets, the deer and the bears. I hear it snows a lot there.

The worry, of course, is what to do with myself when I get out there, but I'm getting myself more and more interested in pursuing fiber as more than a hobby. There's been a lot of soul searching lately; to be expected when you find "The Plan" falls through for you in a spectacular way. I never in 23 years thought I'd be tossing caution to the wind and moving somewhere so different with nothing to hold on to but a great friend, my books, my fiber love, and myself. It has not ever been a part of The Plan. And if I can let go of that much of The Plan, I wonder, how much more might I be able to let go of? Can I live and be happy stepping off the museum professional path? Could I start my own business? Could I forgo the stability of a steady paycheck and cobble together a living doing all the things I love most? And what, exactly, would that be?


Changing place has allowed me to expand my literal horizons, but also my personal ones. I have questioned what exactly makes me happy and how I can make that work for me in the long run. I'm learning lessons in patience with the world and with people- things don't always happen on my schedule. I'm learning lessons in how to trust myself and my abilities- I've always believed if you're clever and talented and willing that God will do good in and through your life. I always found great comfort in the idea that there is A Plan for each of us, but I don't know if I've ever thought that it might not be My Plan and still make me happy. So often, I've told myself after hardship that it's part of the way things are supposed to be and that it will all work out for the best. I did not think that deviation from my plan could be good. I'm learning to let go. Which is really terribly difficult.

Let it be further said, that while I am making a terribly selfish and independent decision, I could not do this without the support of my family. They love me and have been characteristically realistic while also being encouraging. If they were upset or angry about my choice to move, I don't honestly know what I would have done.

Now I know some things about myself:
1. If I actually care about people I tend to consider their needs before my own.
2. I like to cook and am very good at it, but only really love it when I'm doing it for others.
3. Natural, seasonal, local food is the very best kind.
4. I deeply appreciate art, especially informal art and good design.
5. I enjoy the artistry of fiber in most of its various forms, but I only really love it when I'm sharing it with others.
6a. I must be actively doing things because
6b. I love to research but
6c. I'm a terrible scholar
6d. and yet I like knowing things that most people don't.
7. I'm a really good teacher.
8. I think kids are fantastic, especially middle schoolers.
9. I generally like people, but I hate it when people don't treat me like I'm a person too.
10. Cheese and good beer and other sundry carbs are the foods of my heritage and I love and respect them.
11. I'm not afraid to ask for help as much as I used to be
12. I was born to be in charge- it is my element.
13. I have hundreds of great ideas and lack follow-through on way too many of them.
14. I am most creative when surrounded by people with similar interests.
15. Someday I want to live on a farm, but I want someone else to farm it.

And the million dollar question:
What do I do with all this?

I'll be getting a couple dinky part-time jobs in Cooperstown to start, probably, and maybe pursuing enough training to be a professional (formal) educator of sorts. I must make myself a promise that I will judge my success based on my happiness and not compare my success to anyone else- to achieve happiness, no job is must be beneath me. I can do just about anything and make as much money as I could within the next half dozen years at LHF, so that's an even trade. I'm sure I'll stay involved in museums and food, but I don't know how. I want to have a fiberarts store front with yarn and a little fabric and creative space for artists of all kinds. I want to be steeped in history and focus on the local and the unexpected and the beautiful parts of life. I want to live freely and love deeply and do things beyond the mainstream.

The most terrifying and freeing thing is that at this moment I do not know even the vague shape of my future beyond the next month or so. But I trust that everything will turn out for the best. I have hope.