I have never been so glad to close a door on a year. The new year 2025 started cloudy and gloomy weather wise, but it still felt good to turn over a new leaf, even if the switch from one day to the next to begin something new is very arbitrary.
When I write on social media I tune out the negative, I want to show the pretty side of things, because who really likes a downer? And on my blog as well, I want to present things in a positive light. In my life I try to be upbeat and optimistic, it's in my nature, and most days are just like that for me. I always try to find a little bit of upside to things, a silver lining, in the toughest situations. Don't get me wrong - I am super excited to finally be able to make this beautiful place our own, and the progress on the work is ongoing. But the year 2024 shoved on me a curious mix of good, bad, ugly and downright miserable. Life is like that, it deals us a mixed bag of everything, the joy and the sadness, the wins and disappointments, sometimes all in one day.
This last year started a bit rocky, continued complicated, and finished with a heartbreak.
Right at the beginning of 2024 we lost the heating system for the entire winter season, having to deal with the chemical spill and footing the bill for the cleanup. And in June a flash flood got boxes full of our possessions wet, necessitating repacking and drying everything, right before our big project started. But we kept our proverbial chin up, and soldiered through the months. Most of the year felt good, the summer felt idyllic, with us creating a home, tending to our garden, spending time with old friends and meeting the new ones, our neighbours, and getting to know the area around us, all new, all fresh, making new memories.
As I wrote in "Our Year of Firsts" there were a lot of adjustments, ups and downs, adventures good and bad. The challenges came from living in a house while the work is being done, waking up early nearly every day and then having a company of strange men from morning to evening. The dust, the noise... the loss of access to the kitchen for over six months, the loss of access to most of my wardrobe (really bad!).
The other side of the coin is that we live in one of the most beautiful natural spaces, with very little traffic, forests around us, pretty little towns and wineries within reach. The people are nice, the food delicious, and life more fulfilling. Being closer to nature, to the outdoors, is everything. The freedom of just opening the door and taking in the aromas of fresh air and blooms of the season is incomparable. As the summer slipped into autumn we had a new appreciation of being here, with crisp days, changing foliage colors around us, mushrooming in the woods, and seeing the progress of the work on the house. We reveled in this bucolic existence, in spite of all the inconveniences of the every day.
It was the end of 2024 that dealt us a very emotional blow. We lost our beloved dog, Mandy, after over 16 years of being together. It happened right before Christmas and the loss of her still hurts like crazy. After she was diagnosed with kidney disease over two years ago I knew that our days together became even more precious. We managed her condition with medication and a special diet. She was doted on, coddled, and treasured. For most part her days were good ones, it is the last few months when she visibly declined. In her prime she was a ball of energy, feisty, trying to defend us, her family, from everything - a falling leaf, ominous footsteps in the corridor, and obviously a mailman. A rescue dog, she was proud to have us, and we were happy to have her. In her last months she became a quiet, sweet old dog, clinging to me and giving me more love than ever. She went everywhere with us, on every vacation, and in France to every restaurant and cafe. Not many people can experience so many years with a dog so I am very happy we had all this time together. But I had been dreading that day and I was mentally preparing myself for it ever since the diagnosis and because I knew that she was the ripe age of 17 and a half years. But it still fell on me like a ton of bricks, and her passing broke my heart.
Rest in peace my sweet Mandy, run freely, chase squirrels, eat what you love, and until we meet again.
C'est la vie...
xoxo
Joanna
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