Before we left our home in Ohio for farm life in Vermont, we asked our nieces and nephews to help us name the camper we will be calling home for the next several months. 'Pink Cameron' was the name matter-of-factly put forth by our four-year-old niece, Hazel. For whatever reason, the name stuck, although the camper is neither pink nor worthy of a human name—yet. We are curious what Hazel will think when she's fifteen and learns that she named a 1986 Sunline camper 'Pink Cameron'.
Ah, Pink Cameron. It's bad. It's really bad. Coming in we had some basic ideas of what needed to be ripped out and what simple renovations we could make happen. (Note: neither of us had ever renovated anything.) What we did not expect were the thousands of mouse droppings accompanied by mouse nests in the ceiling and floor. Or that each hideous curtain would have at least ten rusty staples affixing it to the wall. Or that the walls seem to be made of rotting construction paper. Two people of our paltry skill level should not be able to demolish any "home" in one day. Except, of course, the decorative piece of padded carpet above the door (?) which required calling in a skilled hand to remove. We would love to have a word with the people who made this hunk of junk. Nevertheless, we are sure we'll come to cherish our time in this camper. We have been afforded a great chance to live simply and free of charge on the farm, and for that we want to express immense gratitude.
Over the coming weeks we will be sharing plenty of blog posts about our progress on the interior and the exterior. The to-do's include paint jobs, a composting toilet outhouse, an outdoor shower, learning to bake on a charcoal grill, hand washing our clothes, and all of the things we have not yet anticipated.
During times of transition, we often experience something that we like to call "the storm before the calm." Our strategy has typically been to "cleave and leave," but this move — to Vermont, to become more permanent fixtures at this farm — has asked more from us. This move has called on us as husband and wife to have stamina. This move has called on us to honor the slow goodbyes with siblings and parents, friends, priest, landscape, and even creature comforts. The farewells have been said. We are here. As we strip down our new abode in hopes of building a better Pink Cameron, we still find ourselves very much in the midst of the storm.
We have spent much of the past two years on the move: traveling, changing jobs and homes and life circumstances along the way. Throw in an engagement, a marriage, an unexpected decision to take low-paying internships on a Vermont goat dairy in wintertime, and here we are: living and working together everyday. That familiar feeling of calm that accompanies a new adventure and a new place has yet to come. Inevitably, the storm will pass. One of these days, though it seems hard to believe, we will relish the scent of fresh summer rain wafting in through the open windows of a livable Pink Cameron.