Introversion

Our life here couldn’t be more different than our life in the city. We bought this little house about 10 years ago on the spur of the moment and it turned out to be a great decision. My husband had noticed the ‘For Sale’ sign from the water and he rang to make a time to see the property that afternoon.

In fact, we were the first people to see through the house since the sign went up. The real estate agent followed us around like a hawk and it was only when we were alone for a few seconds in the small bathroom that my husband whispered, “I don’t think so.” 

It was true that the house was a ‘gooby’, our word for a place lacking in style. But, in my mind the property had a lot going for it. There was a pier at the end of the garden for his old boat. The price was cheap. And, the house could be fixed up over time.

“I think it could be renovated easily,” I whispered back.

“Really?”

We said our goodbyes and began the journey home to the city, all the time talking about aspects of the property. Eventually, my husband said that in the next few days he might make an offer.

“I reckon do it right now,” I said.

“Why?” he wanted to know.

“I have the feeling you could get them to make a decision immediately. They’ve bought another house and the summer season is over. I reckon it’s worth a try.”

My husband mulled the idea over for several minutes, picked up the phone and rang the agent. He wanted to make an offer, he said, that lasted for the next one hour. There were a few calls back and forth but long before we reached the city we had a holiday home that overlooked a lake.

We’ve worked tirelessly on the property. Early on, we had a man come and put in wooden floors in all areas except those we would one day expand to make for a bigger room and a bigger balcony. We shed the windows of curtains we didn’t like, painted the entire house inside and removed many huge trees that crowded us in and blocked our view of the lake. I think we’ll always have a project because that’s a lot of what we do here, work to make it how we want.

When I am down here (in Australia, we always talk of being down on the farm) there is usually plenty of time to spare as well. That is the whole idea of being here – to live in a way we can’t in the city. We rarely use the dishwasher, unless we have a fair number of people to stay. I don’t use the Internet hardly at all. Instead, I read. This is an enormous pleasure and indulgence for me. I have just finished reading a novel in less than a week and I simply adored wasting away the mornings lying in bed.

For those of you who think you have my husband all pegged out, the dynamics of the relationship alter here. He often brings me food as I lay in bed all morning reading and writing. He goes out and chops the wood and keeps the fire stoked and he always likes to fill his trailer very high with his cuttings from the garden and take them off to the tip (dump?).

We lead a rather farm style life here where the happenings of the world seem removed from us and life boils down to the bare necessities – good, plain food; wood for the fire; clothes dried on the line and newspapers, books and the odd movie to entertain us.

When the time comes to pack up and return to life, we feel a bit as if we are being dragged by the coat tails back into society – back to routines and busy days; appointments, school runs; committees; corporate boards and world markets. We go reluctantly.

As I sit here, all I can hear is the movement of the clock, a slight whir of the refrigerator, the wind in the trees, the singing of birds and the clicking of my French manicured nails on the keyboard. There’s plenty of time to think; to daydream; to put events in their perspective. It is in these quiet moments that I reflect on the dual passions of my life: the desire to enrich my mind and my soul with fascinating people, words and ideas, as well as the desire to still my mind and let it all pass me by. I am at heart an introvert and life here suits me very well, until I hunger for more stimulation and then, it is time to move on again.