"If a man settles in a certain place and does not bring forth the fruit of that place, the place itself casts him out"

Our landlord has been cast out by the little lot he's purchased. In the year since his arrival, we've watched the lilacs wither away, the apple tree - whose blossoms once overwhelmed the side-yard - has barely any flowers, and the roses rot on the bush. Since his arrival, the domovoi has taken the throwing things and run up and down the stairs. He sets of smoke-detectors and flings clothes from the landlord's line.

I wonder if, in part, the house has cast him out because it knows it is onnly his second choice. The house he wanted sits across the street, still for sale, and priced just out of reach. How miserable it must be to be a second-best!

I'm looking forward to leaving, and I wonder if our blessing of the lower level will carry one after we leave. Do blessings of space linger forever, or do they fade? I think and hope it will linger, the new couple moving in are sweet, I'd hate for them to have to deal with a frustrated spirit full on.

It amazes me how many Catholics don't believe in spirits, or ghosts, or hauntings of any kind. How can we not? We who see the magic of creation. How can we put a limit on God's magic and imagination?

These aren't rhetorical questions - I really do hope someone answers!

"A good painting has always been to me like a friend. It keeps me company, comforts, and inspires."
~Hedy Lamarr

My life had for a while fallen out of it's creative stride. The days became repetitive: work, pack, plan, work.. and my art fell off, gathering dust amongst the boxes of things to be brought or left. Change, at least permanent change has always been something that throws me off-balance. I love travelling and wandering, I'm comfortable in wandering and uncertainties, but permanence is distressing. If I were less in love with our new land, I would balk at it all, as it is, I'm so wrapped up in planning that I manage to get very little done.

Tonight I refreshed my motivation. It's a rainy night and we listened to the wet outdoors while pouring over plans for things that must be done this weekend. Things that my husband is already accomplishing. We had roses blossoming beneath the Blessed Virgin again, and incense burning, and good white wine. Tomorrow I have a truck to test - drive, and books to pack away, pots to throw, and I'm thrilled to jump back into certainty again.