A Farewell to the Spider Cottage

Yesterday I said goodbye to my home of ten years, the home that was a gift in every season — both literally and during significant seasonal changes that life brings.

In spring, it gave me lilacs and peonies.

In summer, it was a fruitful garden and a place for cheese-themed parties and starry nights around the fire pit.

In fall, everything around became a kaleidoscope of color.

And in winter, a majestic old fireplace made frigid nights a bit more bearable.

I actually cried during the walkthrough with my landlord as we discussed the quirks of this 1912-era home — its original doors and mouldings, its plaster walls, the ancient HVAC system that still manages to groan and whirr to life on hot days and cold nights, the old walkthrough closet that adjoins two bedrooms, and the dark, creepy attic I never had the courage to use for storage.

My life was a lot different when I moved in ten years ago, and so were the people in it, so I can’t help but think I’m not just closing a chapter but finishing a book.

This place has been a cocoon — helping me heal from things I’m still trying to find the courage to talk about, and to create new traditions and a life that now leaves me stunned by its joy and beauty.

In the place I affectionately coined “The Spider Cottage,” I’ve: 

• Started over
• Nurtured my business and watched it flourish
• Grown several gardens, failed at a few, and mercifully succeeded at others
• Eventually realized “a green thumb” is really about love and the right amount of attention (just like in business and relationships)

• Became friends with my elderly neighbors Carol and Bill, and grieved alongside the latter as he became a widower last year 
• Pedaled my bike frequently along the Boise Greenbelt, a path that was, for the first time in my life, just a few blocks from home
• Watched my cat chase bugs in the grass and finally grow old enough to simply enjoy observing from the sun-soaked walkway

• Learned to love wine
• Learned to love cheese — and, in a cruel full circle, learned how to live without it
• Discovered my preference for East Boise
• Honed my fire-building skills
• Spent many nights and mornings writing on its patio 

• Held dinner parties and celebrated birthdays and other milestones with close friends
• Discovered I can be my own handyman 
• Watched my community grow and now burst at the seams, a change I’m not comfortable with sometimes
• Learned how to coexist with spiders (I usually put them outside now rather than smashing them)
• Healed from heartbreak 
• Figured out how to take better care myself
• Reveled in my solitude
• Found love again (this time gentler, kinder)
• Started over

This place was more than a house or even a home. It brought me back to life — a couple of times over. And I am so very grateful.

Onto the next season…