Well, hello there. It’s been three years since the last post, and as you can imagine, a lot has changed — I now have a 22-month-old toddler, and we’re currently on day 62 in isolation, sheltered in place at home, during this pandemic.
But we’re still here on this half-acre in Northern California, and we still have our tiny house. It hasn’t moved since we first parked it, and we’d never converted it into a rental, guest space, or even an office. The only person that has really made use of it is my dad, who sleeps there when he comes up during the week to babysit Emilia.
Since we locked down in March, Nick and I have been working half-days and sharing childcare duties. I wake up with her around 6am most days and make breakfast, then work roughly 7:30am to noon before we switch swifts. Normally, I work in coffee shops in town — our main house is small and there’s not much space to get away from Emilia if she’s in it, so it’s hard to work inside. So the tiny house has become an office, and so far it’s worked well for me. It’s on the other side of the garden, and far enough to feel like an escape. I’ve been productive for the most part and quite enjoy the space. But sitting and working in it recently, I wonder to myself how on earth was I able to live in this, with another person, for a year?
But anyway, yes: I’m still here, the tiny house is still here, and some things have been challenging, but we are fine. Here are more recent pictures of the rest of the garden. I wish I could say with confidence that I’ll post here again soon. I’ll try.