One year ago today, I arrived in Sandpoint for good. This was my new view, visible from the rooms on the south side of my rental house, including the bedroom that would become my studio.
I spent that first night with what few belongings I could cram in my car, a borrowed sleeping bag and chair, and my dog. The movers would arrive the next day with the rest of my worldly possessions, and chaos would ensue for the next few months.
I always lose something during the course of a move. This time, it was my recipe book holder. I'm sure it got squirreled away in one of the two boxes of framed pictures, but I haven't had the incentive to thoroughly go through the lot to see if it is there or got left behind. Oh, I also seemed to be missing an umbrella, which I found just yesterday. It was in a box I had packed which had extra hangers, tie-downs, assorted garage hooks in it, stuff I hadn't needed all this time. Packing logic breaks down as boxes fill and the odd (or oddly shaped) object doesn't fit with its mates. Those crafty movers must have snuck it in there when I wasn't looking. Finding it in such an odd place gives me hope that the recipe book holder will also surface one day.