My new office had two large windows facing south with a generous wooden desk in between them. I am sitting at it right now. There is a couch and a bookshelf. The view is of the surrounding hills and of the linden tree in the yard. In the distance there is a glimpse of that beautiful abandoned manor we passed by on our first walk around the area. There is gravel in the yard and it makes a lovely sound when you walk. There is lavender and irises. There is peace.
We have finally moved into our new place. It's a lovely little house on the other side of the sleepy-village-on-top-of-a-hill. The office that I write from is across the path from it.
The house has a living room that opens up entirely to the South terrace and has a very high ceiling. Next to it are two bedrooms, one on top of the other, each with it's own bathroom. They are large, but not very well lit. In the upstairs bedroom the windows and door don't close very well. This is a summer house in its conception and we're not sure how it will handle cold weather. On the other hand, there's central heating, which is something we haven't had in a very long time! Actually, we haven't had anything but fireplaces ever since we started traveling. And that was six years and eight houses ago! No more wood chopping this winter. Alex will miss that. He likes the ranger look. Off-grid-ing and such. Getting dirty.
Well, getting dirty is something that will definitely not happen here. One particularity of this house, especially compared to past houses we lived in, is how clean it is. There's something about the way it is made that exults order and cleanliness. The whole structure and layout and furniture are honest and clear. Nothing hidden or shoddy. You can see from outside the arrangement of the rooms and the way everything fits together. The place is transparent about it's insides. Even though it's stone walls.
And the funny thing is, it makes you also want to be clean and honest and transparent about your insides. The house literately nudges you into being better. Tidy up your shit, don't litter, sharpen up. Stand up straight. I wish I new what makes architecture do this magic.
We felt greasy and dusty and uneasy on Wednesday when we first arrived, fresh as we were from cleaning up the old place and packing and moving boxes. We felt the need to clean up our act.
Which we did, with a lovely shower. God, showers after a long day of moving boxes... Heaven. Clean new sheets and a fresh pillow. A fresh start.
A start of what exactly?
Well, I'm not sure. But I feel like I'm on the right track. Proudly installed at my new large and welcoming desk, clean new clothes and standing straight, I will endeavor to spend the winter developing my business and honing my skill.
Jo's Epistolary is asking to grow into a lucrative activity, offering itself to non-profits and businesses as a communication device. Talking to a friend about a cause takes the discussion to a deeper level, which I hope I will be able to pull off. Plus, people seem to like the timelapse illustrations.
Also, the Earthwork Collective is taking shape beautifully. A band of unicorns got together back in May to figure out if they could do something about this whole sustainability transition thing. There's sign that we might. We might also reinvent the way people see work in the process. (There’s a free Session for Ecopreneurs every Monday if you want to join)
On the architecture side, it's a mess. I tried to get myself into working in the french system and it is a life-sucking nightmare. I spent a whole week last month tending to the precise rules of permit requests. And failed. Making money that way is not worth it. Yet I will probably have to continue doing it for a while.
My Visual Substack is going to start again, after a short break, as a monthly meeting on Zoom for us to chat graphics and colors and photo filters.
I will also endeavor to be nicer to my mother. Reversing roles of "carer" versus "cared for" has taken a toll on my emotional balance. I write this as a way of declaration of good intentions. Having to jungle spaces for living and working for Alex and myself and space for her and her cat on top of that... well it hasn't been easy. But I feel we pulled it off after all.
I will not illustrate today's letter to you, Reader. I will instead leave you with the thought of sunny autumns and linden trees.
Yours as ever,
Jo
Southern facing... maximum sunshine. Sounds lovely 🌞
The new home sounds delightful - full of peace and order and cleanliness. It sounds like a place to make friends with. A place to work. A place to laugh. A place to cook. A place to sleep. A place to live...