As a young child, I loved the story of the poor shoemaker and the elves. The shoemaker, not having enough money nor materials to make more shoes was so distraught, he didn't know what he would do. That is, until three little elves appeared and worked their magic through the night while the shoemaker and his wife slept. The shoemaker was able to sell the perfectly crafted elfin-made shoes for double his normal price and buy more materials. Wanting to know who made the shoes, the shoemaker and his wife stayed up late to see who would come. They spied the elves working hard and noticed their little friends barely had any clothing. To thank the elves, the shoemaker and his wife sewed, through the day, teenie tiny elfin outfits.
I read the book, over and over, until the pages wore thin. Hoping, I, too, would have such visitors, I used to repurpose my Barbie clothes into what I thought was proper elfin ware. At night, I would leave out my gifts and say a prayer that the elves would come and visit.
All of these years later, the elves have visited. They have come to Rivendell.
It took us a moment to realize, but someone moved the fallen tree out of the creek. The large oak has been split into two with each of its pieces, and their respective branches, placed in a way on opposing sides of the creek that seem to create new ideal habitat homes.
All of that worrying and fretting. Gone. The creek flows freely, once again. I'll reach out to the county to see if this was their handiwork and thank them.
The creek elves haven't been our only visitors. All of the rain has left in its wake many areas muddy, which has helped tell a different kind of story - the one of a momma mountain lion traveling with her kitten, and apparently, a healthy racoon in tow.
Speaking of rain, our old dirt road continues to become more difficult to travel upon. It is this leg, shown in the image, that is the worst. I wish road elves existed.
Though many of the trees are now bare, the brilliance of the neon grass, accompanied by bird song and serenity-sounds of a moving creek, have their way with the soul and all but a peaceful heart becomes incidental.
Paul's trails are becoming more groomed, which makes daily walks quite pleasant. Each time we walk the property, we discover new things. Freya, familiar with the land and never willing to leave Paul's side, always leads the way.
Certain areas are my favorite, such as the entrance of Bree, marked by a large boulder nestled against an old oak tree. Paul wants to move this boulder. He feels it is oddly placed. I, on the other hand, think it is absolutely perfectly charming.
Another 100' of snake wire complete, which makes us exactly half-way done with placing snake wire around the entire area where the chickens and small animals will live. We have it down to a science. The most difficult part is the ditch Paul has to dig around the fence so the snake wire can be placed numerous inches into the earth. We zip tie the wire in place and then trim all of the ties, which have now come to be affectionately known as "zippies."
On social media, I saw a bride-to-be make a crown for her wedding day out of zippies. I thought it was brilliant and it reminded me that the only thing that truly limits us is our own imagination and faith.
I have unwavering faith in Rivendell and the sanctuary she will become.
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