Floral Duct Tape Doesn't Fix Everything

As I sit on my deck to write this piece, I’m exhilarated to have just seen a cedar waxwing on a tree in my backyard. I’ve also just messaged a friend for a recommendation on a tree trimming company because the trees back here are dancing a little too hard with the electrical wires. Having trees trimmed was mentioned in the home inspection report and I’ve been fighting with myself about it since. And then something shifts and I feel ready. Ah, the mystery of life. 

Yesterday, after noticing that the eaves on my garage had a blockage, I hopped up on a ladder, cleaned it out myself, and as the water poured down my chaotically self-rigged downspout, I whispered for about the 37th time to myself “fuck these downspouts, I really need to get a rain chain and a water barrel.” 

And then I figured out, finally, how to open one of my basement windows. It took some googling, a razor blade, a screwdriver, and some elbow grease - and then a dance party in gratitude to feel fresh air come into the basement when that window popped open.  

Witnessing the growth of my homeowner skills has been astounding. I began homeownership terrified and deeply uncomfortable with the responsibility. I’ve made great progress in the 6 months I’ve been here, and I write this post to celebrate the first half year of many I will be here in my sweet home.

While recently sitting on my much beloved deck reading Under the Banner of Heaven by Jon Krakauer, I reflected about the forced female submission in both my biological and spiritual lineage. So many of my foremothers and sisters were born into lives with little autonomy. I do wonder if part of my purpose, the reason I’ve been blessed with so much independence in life, is to heal the lineage I am attached to. I don’t pretend to understand the entire big picture, I just feel like that part might be true. 

Considering I began the mothering chapter of my life with $7 in the bank, depths of unresolved trauma, and pain so bright I could barely breathe, that I am now a solo homeowner feels a damn miracle. And even so, the first steps of settling into Mabel were heartbreaking. I was surprised at how lonely the entire experience was. I’ve always been a bit messy with romantic relationships, but the experience of homeownership has clarified a few points regarding the type of companionship I want. To feel such immense gratitude for this home, pride in myself for ascending all I have up to this point, and then sorrow for having no one to share it with contributed to the overwhelm I felt at the beginning.

Speaking of the beginning, let’s start there, shall we. 

December 2025. I leave the work Christmas party a little early to mosey on over to this home that is brand new on the market, a market that has irritated me. Up to that point, me and my humble budget in this economy had experienced a frustrating few months of perusing homes for sale. I wanted to take a break for a while but felt encouraged by GUS (God.Universe.Source) and had a sense this home was meant for me when I saw the photos on social media. I promptly messaged my realtor that I needed to have a look at her as soon as possible and was so eager to step into her the next day that I sprained my toe. I pretended I didn't, however, because I didn’t want the realtor to think I was an idiot that couldn’t walk through a door, and then afterwards, I hobbled the few blocks back to work and told my beloved work pals, “I think I found her”. 

Aside from sharing the deets with my workpals, I kept the news pretty quiet. My children had no idea about the house. When my offer was officially accepted the following morning, I called my mom in tears from my car and said “I’m buying a house, I’m actually doing it” and cried and cried, and my mom cried and cried, and there we were, me in the parking lot of the office, and her at home for lunch, in awe of my journey. 

The move was amazing. The weather was decent, which is always a gamble in southern Alberta winter. My crew had all my family’s items moved into the new home in 3 hours, and then my momma and a girlfriend unpacked my kitchen while I sorted all the other moving day chaos. I felt so incredibly cared for that day, and grateful to belong to this tribe of intelligent, caring, hardworking, hilarious humans. 

Not until my sweet lil’ posse had moved in did I realize that obtaining a mortgage and accepting the responsibilities of home ownership are two very different things. I had worked so hard to obtain a mortgage, I hadn’t given much thought at all to the responsibility of homeownership. 

I quickly recognized terror swirling about internally, and battled with myself about whether I was capable, and omg what will I do if the wind blows my house over, or I step wrong and the entire property crumbles to dust. OCD flavored anxiety is a ride. There were so many glimmers given to me throughout the purchasing process though, so I leaned on those love notes from the Universe to get through. I knew I was meant to be in this home, I did not regret buying her, I just had to adjust to the newness of homeownership, and learn to believe in my capabilities. 

I quickly learned that homeownership is just water management;

the downspouts, the gutter, the eaves,

the drains, the faucets, the pipes, the hoses. 

We must ensure the dry parts stay dry, 

and the wet parts have access to water. 

So here’s a shout-out to my shop vac, carpet steamer, the cinnamon oil that was given to me for free, waterproof tape, aluminum tape, household cleaning vinegar, and the dehumidifier I snagged for just $30 from Costco. 

About a month ago, as I was hauling my overflowing shop vac up the stairs, dirty water spewing out on the carpet, my thigh muscles working real hard to pull this chaos up on out my house, I felt such a wave of blessed confirmation swell over me - 

I’m becoming her, 

the woman I’m meant to be, 

I just know it.

And I just know that this house is an essential part of that journey. 

And the yard? A big ol’ garden plot, lawn for days, 2 flower gardens, and a raspberry bush?! And that’s just what I’ve inherited - you know I’ve got all kinds of plans to turn the space around my home into a wild meadow. My tree-loving soul would be amiss to not mention the trees -  Cedar, Ash, Elm, Chokechery, Lilac, and Crabapple bringing all the birds to my yard. I have decided that watching birds flit about in all these trees is way more entertaining than anything I could find on a streaming service. I sit out here quite content for hours. 

Speaking of birds - at some point this summer, the birdfeeder I installed on the deck brought bluejays. I’ve always believed that GUS sends bluejays my way to remind me that everything will be okay, and while in a video therapy session talking about homeownership and money management, I watched out my window as a bluejay hopped into the feeder for the first time. The next day I watched another bluejay hop onto the roof of my house which felt to me a blessing on the entire experience. I’m not alone in this. GUS is here with me. I felt major anxieties dissolve with both instances and have stepped forward calmer with more faith. 

I like a segue from birds to cats, so let’s call this next part Quirky Cat Lady Makes Silly Decisions That The Cat’s Don’t Love And Have No Problem Communicating To Her About Their Disapproval.  

Cats don’t love change. 

I know this. 

Changes stresses them out. 

Dude, same. 

I adopted one of my cats solely because she had been scared in life and needed extra care. 

I picked her because she reminded me of me. 

Or maybe she picked me because she knew I knew what it was like to live terrified. 

So when we moved, their outside time drastically reduced, I got rid of a litter box AND changed the litter (why I gotta be like this?!), my tender feline soul sister had a lot of feelings to express which she promptly got to by peeing on things:

anything not usually on a floor - towels, reusable grocery bags, clothes,

sometimes our beds, while we slept in them, 

and often in two carpeted corners downstairs. 

She is happy for me to report that she won the battle. This silly human of hers is back to buying the litter she likes, and has brought in another litter box (she can’t possibly pee and poop in the same box - that would be ridiculous). The silly human is also happy to report that orange scented Nature’s Miracle enzyme cleaner gets the job done. 

A quick note about hardwood floors and cat hair- slippers pick up much more hair if it’s not tangled in carpet. I can’t decide whether that’s a blessing or curse. 

Moving on to joy, which I have deemed, post burnout, a focus of my present existence:

Joy in this journey has come to me in the form of a lawn library. For years, I’ve yearned to have a property I could put a lawn library on as I care a great deal about access to literacy and would also love an easily accessible spot to toss all those books I read into. I purchased a lawn library kit within the first couple weeks of being here, and excitedly installed it a couple weeks ago! Installation was all shovels and drills, and dirt (Read: FUN) and then books and glee. I nervously anticipated how she’d be received, and it seems to me that Elle's Lawnbrary is quickly becoming a community commodity! I’m thrilled anytime I notice someone has taken a book or given a book. My girlfriends have kept it stocked which feels so special each time. If I’m inspired to do some stitching this fall, I plan to put some crocheted snowflakes in there during the holidays.

I’m in love with the whole lawnbrary thing. 

I’m also in love with my yard. I never intend to do garden work, but find myself out there frequently and naturally, blissfully pulling weeds, planting vegetables, talking to the flowers, receiving guidance from the trees, harvesting vegetables, and planning next year’s plots. I intend for the side garden to become a sunflower spot, and the front yards to become meadows. I have a boho inspired walkway planned, and perhaps will open the back gate up to a parking pad, install a bee motel, and plant a fire themed garden in the old firepit, and, and and: 

• 

• 

• 

Obsessed.  

My friends, 

Thank you for loving me through all of this. You have given me such beautiful space to be vulnerable in my uncertainty, have provided such gracious listening for each obsessive frantic spiral, and have shared so much wisdom with me. I love you. 

May the challenging, blessed beginnings of my relationship with Mabel continue to cultivate self-belief and faith. May this home continue to feel more like mine everyday, and May I pull this damn thing off. 

Cozy on my deck,

E