Nearly 3 years have passed since I moved into my home, Meadow Manor, in the UK. I am currently speaking at events in the UK ( US events coming soon), related to my new book Meadow Manor, where I am talking about this chapter in my life. When I first discovered this home, I was captivated by its light and joyful energy and its majestic qualities. It is a Grade 11 listed home, which means it is highly protected by the historical society and only decorative changes can be implemented. The structure itself both inside and out is sacred, hence why my village is a picture postcard from days gone by. And so, my transformation process was confined to painting, floor finishing, tiles, renovations of bathrooms and kitchen and of course my furniture and furnishings, which were largely rehoused from my beloved Prairie B&B in Texas, that were patiently in storage since I sold the Prairie a few years back.

As with any renovations, curveballs happen. And like with life, it’s how we navigate them, even if they don’t always make sense, that allows us to see any lessons to be had, even if it’s simply patience and acceptance.

I had two somewhat major curveballs, which I can now look back and giggle but at the time there was a lot of head scratching, searching for answers of the how’s and whys.

My heavy lift renovations took about 4 months, the kitchen and the bathrooms being the most major.

Towards late December the house was about 90% complete and I was to host a family Christmas and my dream of having the house full of people was in arms reach. My daughter Lily arrived a couple of weeks before from across the pond. While she is a California girl at heart, she was in awe of the beauty of Meadow Manor, the light and warmth, (both physically and emotionally). Many English country homes can have heavy historical energy, with compromised light and “rising damp” can be a cause for concern. But Meadow Manor had always felt solid, dry and well maintained by the previous owners, who as they say were custodians for over 30 years. Between their reign and the 1600’s when the house was built, I am certain there were years when she wasn’t as pristine.

A few days before Christmas Lily and I were having dinner in the kitchen, she was complimenting me on the home I had created, in awe of each little mindful detail being beautiful.

After dinner we made our way into the living room to watch a movie. On the way I took the dogs (George and my daughters Sadie), outside for a pee. It was a beautiful cold and crisp winters night, the dark sky lit up by a thousand stars.

On reverting back to the movie, shortly thereafter I heard what sounded like a downpour of rain. I had a delayed reaction, considering in slow motion there was no rain in the movie, and recalling I had just observed a clear sky with stars. And so, while the English weather can change on a dime, this was too quick. Slowly and alarmingly it occurred to me the pouring “rain” was coming from the end of the hallway, towards the kitchen…..so I followed my ears, only to find to my dismay, some of the ceiling, right above the dining table Lily and I had just been sitting at, had fallen in, along with the dripping wet insulation, and it was pretty much raining in my newly completed kitchen. Lily and the dogs came thru as they heard my “oh no’s). We all froze for a moment, including Geroge who could see his bed being poured upon. While I am not good with the inner workings of the house it didn’t take much to work out a pipe had burst somewhere. I ran thru the house, all 3 stories in the hopes I had absent mindedly left my massive bath running. But to my dismay I found nothing running or overflowing. The showers, toilets, washing machines, radiators were silent. I ran back downstairs and scooped up all I could in the kitchen as the pouring water started to cover the floor (fortunately flagstone), but it was fast flowing towards the hallway towards my wooden floored living room. The only way I could stop the flow was to close the kitchen door to the hallway and use George’s bed to absorb as much of what was becoming a current, he watched with grave concern.

It was 10.30pm at night and I had no idea where the water supply was. Fortunately, my contractor answered my call and guided me to the stop cock and advised to turn on all the faucets in the house……. phew…..the water eventually stopped pouring thru the ceiling and my contractor was on his way.

Of course, I had to capture the moment to share with my IG followers, so I snapped a photo of the initial collapse in the ceiling…. with some of the narrative of what was happening. Loving concerned comments came my way from followers who had been following my renovation journey.

On arrival just before midnight, my contractor helped mop up as best we could, but he broke the news that on morning light the whole ceiling would have to come down as at this point it was a big soggy mess. We were unable to find the cause of the source, so the water stayed shut off, thru the night, but he reassured me an army of workers would arrive at dawn to find the cause and tear down the remaining soggy damaged materials. This was to be less than a week before Christmas!!! It was stressful and disappointing, but I was most grateful I was home when the disaster unfolded.

As promised on morning light an army of contractors did arrive, we found the source of the problem, ( a faulty joint in my newly installed plumbing) and the task of removing the debris began. Now, having lived in CA for so long, I have a lot of knowledge around the dangers of mold and careful process needed to take when repairing and remediating water damage. But there was a silver lining !!! On the removal of the soggy plaster board ceiling and recessed lights, beautiful ancient beams were revealed that I would never have known about. And they were beautiful. So this was my 2^nd IG post on this story.

I found a song with lyrics that you had to have a cloudy day to have a sliver lining…. And there we had it. The catastrophe of the night before gave the most beautiful gift of these beams that already gave my kitchen a beautiful warmth and texture, likely how it was in years gone by. So, while the timing was off and there was some careful repair that needed to happen, there was a silver lining for sure. My IG audience was as thrilled for my discovery as I was. I could visualize how one of my twinkly chandeliers would hang between the beams and bring such romance into this space.

UNTIL the next day,!!! So close to Christmas, when a permit officer knocked at the door, unannounced, stating the permit office had been sent 2 anonymous photos, showing my open celling and my accompanying text of my excitement of the reveal of the beams!!The inspector was primarily checking I hadn’t just decided to rip my celling down without a permit. He was nice, and could see the evidence of the flood, curtains and furniture water stained and the room in disarray. I explained that it was indeed a mess, but I was so grateful that the beams had found the light of day and would contribute greatly to my efforts in embracing the original beauty on my home. BUT somewhat apologetically he informed me once the celling had dried out, I would need to replace the celling with “like” of the plaster board that had been damaged. That I would never get a permit to keep the ceiling opened. Even though the beams were there from the beginning of time, and even though if to some they could be perceived as an eyesore to the home, it would only be for my eyes. But he proceeded to give me paperwork reflecting I had a permit to repair the ceiling only to its most recent rendition. Of course, the big question is what human found joy in screen shooting my IG and sending thru to the permit office. And why? I put it down to hurt people. Hurt people. And why does the permit office care about me exposing a beautiful original detail of MY home’s interior. But after much discussion it was clear there was no wining this argument. We had cozy Christmas gatherings under the beams, knowing their time of seeing the light was limited. And in the new year the yucky plaster board with recessed lights were reinstalled. While my kitchen is beautiful it’s a crime the beautiful beams are hidden and I’ve yet to hang my twinkly chandelier, (that is another story I will tell later).

Then the 2^nd curveball. Meadow Manor sits on about 3 acres, a garden, orchard and some meadows. I have multiple majestic barns on the meadows that once upon a time would have housed farm animals.

My first water bill was gastronomical, especially given no one had been living in the house during the recent renovations.

After much chatter with various workmen, it was decided there must be a leak, out in the fields somewhere. The water company agreed to halt my bill, providing I was actively working to find the cause. During my exploration they popped by multiple times for any progress. Because my property was once upon a time a working farm, I am told the water pipes were often haphazardly placed with little rhyme or reason. So, chances are one of the random pipes had broken. That began the task of trying to find where in the fields and then the source.

I had everything from diggers making deep cavities in many areas of my lovely lawn, to a local farmer who used an ancient discovery method of a “divining rod”, which as far as I can understand can detect pipes underground as the rods bend slightly once metal is detected. He walked around the meadows with his rod, waiting for any slight bend in the rod which would dictate the evidence of pipework which could possibly be the source of the leak. All to no avail. So, in the end the decision was made to cut off and cap the water supply to the meadows which also affected my walled garden. Even though England is blessed with plenty of rain, the summer months give cause for me to hose my dahlia garden using a very long hose from the side of my property that has water. A bit of a chore as when my hose inevitably kinks it stops the water supply. But mostly I find the chore meditative.

So with both of my major curveballs being around water and plumbing I sought out the spiritual meaning, as often I do when unusual happenings come into my life.

I learned water is often a symbol of purification, transformation and rebirth. And can also represent energy blockages in our lives that need to be addressed. All very relevant given my reasons for grounding myself in the UK after 40 years in the US.
With clarity on the spiritual reasons and my continued inner work, I am happy to report all plumbing has been flowing as it should, smoothly and soundly.