I’ve looked out my window for years now and seen lake and mountains. In a month, I’ll look out of the window of another house and see woods. Lovely open Maine woods.

I’m not moving per se. This house will be home. And, well, that house will be home as well, I hope. I’ve bought a place in Bath, Maine, so I can be near my oldest daughter, Nika, and her husband Scott. They’re starting a family and asked me to come closer. Which I’m happily doing. Happily.

And yet, I seem to have forgotten, somewhere over time, what setting up a new home entails.

First, there’s finding the place. Most important, I had thought, as I headed to Bath, was to look out on more water. No. Not so. Most important? To be near Nika. Well, of course. But also, the dog park. And a good place to walk. Not to mention, light and space for my art. Plus, when looking in a town as old as Bath, perhaps try to find a house that has a room larger than the size of a queen bed. Or is not cavernously huge. With a basement that doesn’t have a river running through it. That’s the challenge.

I found the house. I have it. Now, it’s a matter of “nesting”, as my friend Jan calls it. I’m attempting to recall: how did I do that before? Where did the “stuff” come from?

And did I forget that the house always needs some “help” initially?

Okay. So yes. I have a serious case of House Brain. Forgive me for a while as I work on…

the next place to create my art

near Nika and Scott and the new baby, coming soon.