Look! Up in the sky! (and into the fence row)

Here's a lovely before and after grouping of photos. The before is the white tent that has adjoined our shed for several months. This tent has been through a winter with us. It has been a staging area for construction materials, boxes of belongings that fit nowhere else, tools that do not fit in the shed beside it, and generally a safe haven from people who want to talk when I am completely out of listen. Not long ago I removed the panel closest to the shed, in hopes that there would be less resistance and a place for prevailing winds to go unhindered. This worked extremely well, provided the winds prevailed on the yard side of the tent.

Guess where hurricane winds prevail from? You are correct. Hurricanes are all about coming from the other side. When that happens, a ceiling and three walls lack only a mast to be recognized for their true utility. That  is why I've entitled the following photograph "BoxKite."

The bit that looks like the head of Joseph in a church play produced on a shoestring is purportedly fine china. The mushroom effect is created by bunching a plastic tarp, covering it with a canvas tarp, then tying it off with 1/4-inch polyester rope. Somewhere beneath that hasty preventative measure I'm betting there is one dry box. However, three or four very wet boxes are supporting it. One advantage of a thorough soaking is that the boxes will be very easy to open. I'm thinking one long fingernail should about do the trick.

As already discussed on Facebook, the overstuffed pink chair could probably have done without an impromptu rinse cycle. Oddly, despite some sustained winds last night, most things stayed in situ. Including, things I would have happily apologized for as I collected them from neighbors' yards and pronounced them dustbin fodder.

Today, I collected the tent canvas, poles, and removed all the bungee tie-downs before spreading the panels in the yard. I'll need to turn them to get the other side rinsed. Soon, they'll be ready to fold and store and I can dismantle the pallets-and-plywood flooring of the temporary structure that we'd still be using, were it not for our overnight guest blowing things about. I'm looking at this as one of those "life nudges" convincing me that we've tarried far too long in dealing with surplus belongings. I'm pretty sure we've been belonging to the things.

The very nice thing about moving into a living space just over one-quarter of the size one is moving from is that necessity quickly becomes apparent. Few things qualify. The space we have is more than adequate. I've seen people happily living with so much less. It's just that our space is crowded by things we've inherited, things we're storing for others, and things we no longer need. Our heartfelt thanks to Sandy for making this even more clear than we could have on our own. It's time to let go.