A Shift in the Mood

I’ve worked a lot of Creston Auctions over the years. This weekend’s auction was different and I am trying to sort out why. The weather was awful, yes—cold, wind, and snow—but we’ve had successful sales even when the weather wasn’t great. We had lots of community support; one elderly lady who came to fill bags with trail mix told me she wasn’t sure she was contributing much, and I responded that to those of us who like to munch on trail mix all weekend, her efforts were greatly appreciated. Everyone pitches in and helps.

We didn’t have as much merchandise consigned to the equipment sale as in previous years. This was my view from the (enclosed and relatively warm) auction wagon:

That’s the husband on the right and our head auctioneer on the left. Amanda was manning the computer and I was up there to help her and provide a backup report of what sold.

The crowd seemed smaller and the auctioneers were having a hard time getting bids out of people. The mood has shifted. Pessimism would be one word for it. Grief might even be another—grief and sadness that something important has been lost with the influx of outsiders to this valley.

[I want to be clear that we came here from elsewhere, and we have lots of friends that came from elsewhere, but there is a huge difference between moving to a place and becoming part of the existing community and moving to a place and trying to change it into the place you left. We moved to Montana to live in Montana.]

We’ll have to see how the final numbers shake out. All funds raised will go toward the construction of our new fire station.

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I was approached over the weekend by a friend and asked if I would be open to considering a position on a volunteer board in the future. That request came out of the clear blue sky. I mentioned it to the husband, who asked me if he was supposed to hit me upside the head with a 2 x 4.

It is humbling that my name came up as a potential candidate for this position. The organization does important work for this community. However, I came home and looked at my calendar and reminded myself that I need to stop allowing the tail to wag the dog. I just finished four days at a fundraising auction. I have to chair a meeting for the homestead foundation fundraising committee this evening, which means organizing the agenda and getting reports sent out some time today. Susan and I need to copy and fold the quarterly homestead foundation newsletter this week—and it has to be done this week because I am teaching two serger classes next week. I have a few updates to make to the homestead foundation website. As soon as I sew the label on the quilt that the Ladies Club made for the annual homestead foundation raffle, I need to take it over to the church, hang it up, and take photos for the website.

And this is Holy Week and I have to play at our Maundy Thursday service.

I am the one who committed to these activities and I will follow through with them, but when I say that sometimes I feel like unpaid staff for these organizations, I am not kidding. I am handing off my auction duties. I plan to cut down my homestead foundation involvement next year to managing the website and being chairman of the plant sale. I only took over chairing the fundraising committee because our pastor, who retired last fall, also retired from his homestead foundation duties and I didn’t want us to lose the momentum we had built. I can’t keep spinning these plates, though, at the expense of shoving aside the things I want to do, like teach.

April is a wash, sewing-wise. I have to finish my class samples and bind the last baby quilt—which I finished quilting last week—but beyond that, not much else will be happening. Tomato seedlings are popping up and will need to be transplanted, and it’s time to start the next round of plants.

Sadly, I think our little deer got hit by a car. I saw a deer by the side of the road Thursday morning that had similar markings. She never went more than a day or two without coming by for a snack. I haven’t seen her since the middle of last week. I’ll be pleasantly surprised if she shows up, but I’m not holding out much hope.