Awesome Work Party inspires young lady to contemplate "sense of place"

I think I have always been really affected by place. When I was either 12 or 14, my parents announced that we were moving from the house I lived in all my life to a bigger house in a different neighborhood. They drove us the 5 miles to "Foxcroft," to the house which would soon be ours. It was almost twice the size of our old house and had an acre of woods behind it. My sister was ecstatic. She went exploring and dreamed about all the fun we would have there. I got out of the car and froze. I cried for days. This wasn't home. This was a strange place that smelled funny, and there was so much space between each house. I deeply mourned for the home I would be leaving behind- not just the house, whose attic fan droned me to sleep every hot summer piedmont night. Not just the "creek" (aka run-off ditch), to whom I composed and whole-heartedly sang songs of devotion all spring, summer and fall. Not just the huge and gorgeous holly in the front yard or the protective oak tree or the play house in the back that Dad built. Not just the fact that I knew every crack in the sidewalk for blocks from so much bike riding and every inch of every back, side and front yard on the whole block. Not just the sweetness of the candies that Marie and Charlie, our ancient back neighbors, would give Jenna and me when we pretended to go over to their pickly smelling house just to "say hi." Not just the block parties every summer where the children would run races on foot, bike and pogo stick while the grownups got drunk on cheap beer. Not just the memories of sleepless summer evenings spent whispering with Jenna in our bedroom, trying to stay cool and not get caught being awake. Or the maypole celebrations my mom would host in our front yard every May Day. Or riding my bike to Kerry's and then riding another 2 blocks to school. It was no one thing or even a compilation of a bunch of single experiences that every cell in my teenage body would grieve. It was the very essence of the place, and how much of the place was me and my identity in the world. I didn't realize it at the time, but the place where I grew up was probably as much a part of me as my very family.
I think place is not just where you are. There are qualities to every place that seem to demand expressions of those qualities from its inhabitants. As an adult I know that our first neighborhood in Charlotte was a very safe and community oriented place. It drew neighborliness out of the souls of its residents, and those that refused were either inclined to leave or they stuck out like a sore thumb. What makes a place who and what it is remains a mystery to me. Like why was our second Charlotte neighborhood, which was so close in location, so very different?

It is quite monumental that I have finally bought land here. Shelton Laurel. Who would have ever thought it? The first time I ever drove through Shelton Laurel I was in absolute awe. It seemed so remote and removed from the rest of the world. I wondered who on earth lived there and what did they possibly do all the way out there. I am tickled that I have chosen a place that awed me as a first reaction.

The holler where my land is is a really special place. I have been visiting Susie and Todd there for years, and I realized the other day, ever since the first time I went down there, it was one of my favorite places to go visit. The feeling I got there was so good. Now I "own" 20 acres there, and it's making think a lot about place. I wonder what the spirit of this place is going to demand of me as a resident. So far I know (from living in the holler as a squatter for 2 years) that the place demands that I attune myself to its pace, which seems slower and deeper than the society at large. I am required to give utmost respect to the elements because they have demonstrated their power in the form of floods, trees falling and hailstorms. I am also demanded by this place to marvel at the wonder of creation.

I had my first big work day on the land last Saturday. You would not believe the awesomeness of the day. Fourteen friends and neighbors came, all giving generously of their time and energy all day to help me clear around my house site and saw up some trees that came down in the snow storm. I was utterly amazed that people came in the morning and worked hard all morning and then STAYED and worked hard all afternoon. We had so much fun and got so much work done. At a few moments in the day I looked around me and almost tripped out to really realize what was happening. I was experiencing a really beautiful aspect of the spirit of my new place- the spirit of helping and community. Shelton Laurel, being so separated from the surrounding towns and areas by mountains, has a long history of a place that takes care of itself and its own. Even though the people who came to help me Saturday are relatively new in that place, I think the place has already made them adopt the quality of taking care of each other. I am so happy to be in a place that demands that quality of its residents. As I write this, I realize that in some ways my first neighborhood in Charlotte and the neighborhood of my new land couldn't be more different. But in some ways, the qualities of place are more similar than I would think.

PS. Pictures of awesome work day and fantastic neighbors coming soon...