The Settling In of Epic Proportions

One of these days, I'll have actual pictures of the house and/ or what we're in the midst of doing, but in the mean time all I have are words.

How's this one: Curtains.
We apparently didn't own any before we moved here. Oh, pardon moi, we had two panels for one window. That's it. Fortunately for us, our landlord and landlady are super, super nice, and they offered us a few more curtains plus curtain rods. However, that still left at least three rooms exposed. We've been here a full month, and last night, Bryan put up the curtain rods and new curtains for our room. Today, I bought curtains for Asher's room. We are no longer exposed.

Or this one: Carpets.
We are on a Great Carpet Quest. The boys' rooms are on the lower level of the house, and they have linoleum flooring, so we've been trying to put down rugs to warm the rooms and make them more inviting to boys who are more than likely going to be playing on the floor. However, everything cute is hideously expensive and everything cheap is... well, not cute. We have found some carpets at Lowe's that are really nice and affordable (think: clearance), but only enough for one room. The Quest continues.

And these: Poison Ivy. And Poison Oak. And Poison Sumac.
We have all three. Lots of all three. And I specifically bear the wounds to prove it. Though, I'm sure a picture of the biggest tree in our yard, itself wound with actual poison ivy as well as ringed with those little sprouted weed plants, would also serve as excellent proof.
My mister, who is schooled in poison ivy and its havoc upon a person, is pretty much the only person who can deal with it in the yard. He's armed with Round Up, long sleeves, gloves and the biggest bottle of Tecnu on the market. I, on the other hand, stand inside the house, behind closed windows and doors, and break out in new rashes when the wind blows the wrong way. Seriously, people. It's so not right.

Other excellent words: Lightning Bugs, Bats, Rabbits, Coyotes, Frogs.
This past weekend, just as dusk was falling, Bryan and I went out to the front patio of the house to listen to thunder rolling to the south of us and look out over the big, beautiful yard before us. Darkness fell slowly, and as it did, the yard filled with lightning bugs. It was absolutely beautiful. A funny squeaking drew our attention overhead, to the treetops, silhouetted against the sky, and two little bats spiraling around the yard. They squeaked, the funniest little noise, and circled the trees, almost as though they were chasing each other, playing. Possibly, they were catching fireflies for breakfast. Either way, I was tickled to no end.
Over on the north edge of the yeard, a brown rabbit nibbled on the grasses and plants. To the west, where a small stream flows along the property, Fergie the Frog (thus named by my sons), sat under a hazy, rising moon. Then, just as we were discussing heading back indoors to our computers and projects, a coyote howled to the east, essentially shutting up the yapping of our neighbor's little dogs.

The word uttered a lot that night: Awesome.

We love this house. We love this yard. It's an adjustment for sure; neither of us realized how much of an adjustment moving from an apartment to a house would be. Neither of us, however, would claim that it isn't worth it.

It totally is. Trust me.