I have something I’ve been meaning to tell you. But then Sandy came along, and the election, and, well, I had some other things I really wanted to say. So. The BIG NEWS. After much discussion, Sweetheart and I are moving into this house. An old farm house with creaky floors and painted ceilings, exposed beams and milk glass fixtures on a decent passel of land that slopes down to a windy, woodsy creek. Because we need space and air and the warmth of a wood fire and a big silence around us where it’s just us but also the joyous noise of a room just for music (!) and a kitchen full of family and a view of the mountains and enough land for a sustaining garden and bees to start and chickens to follow and maybe a goat when it’s really time to settle down and all of the sweet and simple things that shouldn’t just be for vacation. BUT never fear, beloved Brooklyn, because we are ornery and require decent chinese food, because even though she’s been battered around a bit (and she’s battered us around a bit), we aren’t through with New York yet. So, we are also moving from our current apartment into one right up the street, keeping a place in our hearts and our neighborhood, a Brooklyn brownstone floor through right above this guy:BIG NEWS, right? Wanderlust vs. Homesickness, City Mouse vs. Country Mouse, Brownstone vs. Farmhouse, we just couldn’t decide yet. So, we’re going to try for both. Posts here will be fewer and farther between during our big move(s)—which also includes finding a home for unscathed furniture for the flooded Rockaway house, just for fun— but you can follow our adventures over on Instagram (@featherbyfeather) in the meantime. In love and nesting.
You might remember from this post that Sweetheart and I have been searching for change, making T-charts, Venn Diagrams, and complicated lists to try and narrow down our next step, our great leap forward. Or at least sideways. Leaping Somewhere. The space between Country Mouse and City Mouse has been seeming a bit wider every day, City Mouse yearning for space, sweet and quiet, and a little piece of land to call her own, while Country Mouse is still needs City Mouse’s proximity to incredible chinese food and strange DJ light installations in abandoned waterfront warehouses put on by dear friends (seriously, anyone in Brooklyn tonight, go to Nuit Blanche’s Autumn Bowl event tonight in Greenpoint- admission free if you “Bring Your Own Beamer”— beamer=video projector). What are a couple of little ole mice to do? Well, we’re working on it, and in the great machinery of what sweeping change requires, we’re wrangling a lot of moving parts. One of those parts required taking a weekday sabbatical, acquiring a truck from the hasidic rent-a-car on Classon, and rattling upstate for an afternoon adventure to help Sweetheart’s Mama move out of her summers-of-love Woodstock digs. Stay tuned for more City/Country Mouse news, in the meantime, I’ve just got to say: THE LEAVES.
Visiting our friends in Pennsylvania over this past weekend, I discovered something new: the life of the town mouse. Until now, I’ve only known the pretty sharp divide between Country Mouse (beauty, idyll, low rent, and terrible chinese food) and City Mouse (the glittering compromise of paying pounds of flesh for the privilege of seeing a human poo on the subway… on the way to get amazing sichuan and see The Mothstory slam live). My dear friend McKay, sensing a potential shift, gave me this New Yorker cartoon when I first moved up from my Virginia farmhouse (sidenote: the fact that a New Yorker cartoon actually pertained to me was an early City Mouse thrill):
But instead of either traipsing down a fetid sidewalk or run over in the middle of 6th avenue, there could be another fate: Town Mouse. Rare in America, my friends have a beautiful old sort of Craftsman house in an awake little old-fashioned downtown- walking distance to the market, the dry cleaner, the bookstore, the coffeeshop, the train station, and (!) work etc. but with space, calm, fabulous light and a good mortgage (I’m guessing. City Mice don’t think twice about talking rent money and square footage over $8 beers, but when you’re drinking a very nice cote du something with some Town Mice, it feels unseemly to ask them whether they paid extra for the washer/dryer). But think. Town Mouse could keep her jewels in a tiny cup when she was at the sink. Town Mouse could have a sweet, sunny little place for strawberry baskets, eggs from the chickens, and muddy shoes.Town Mouse could have this tree in her backyard.But…City Mouse still has it pretty good, for now.