Can you even believe we are closing in on our THIRD summer here on the farm!? Granted we did just celebrate our two year anniversary of being farm owners, so maybe you’re trying to do some quick math right now that’s not adding up, but we did show up on the scene Mother’s Day weekend 2017. SO that year, then last year, and now this year… three summers.
Time. Freaking. Flies.
Can you believe Gage, who is now just the smartest little three year old you ever did see (he fully said in a full on teenager voice today, “Are you serious?” when Tom put his brother’s shirt on him for bed), was a mere 18 month old, diaper bearing, toddler when we arrived here? He was just starting to walk and talk and now he’s keeping up with his big bro and sis.
It’s weird to think that they probably won’t have any memories outside of this place. There is this weird sense about that though because it’s all I wanted- my kids to know ‘home’ as one unchanging location- and it’s why I was in such a hurry to get us here, and yet I know that there was SO MUCH amazing life that lead us to this place… I wish they could know the full story.
But we know.
It’s strange staring down the barrel of summer #3 knowing how completely unsure- okay terrified- and green I was in that first year. I remember hanging the clothes out to dry on the line only to have an unpredicted summer rain wash away all my drying progress. I remember getting lost in the twisting, country roads and knowing that if I could just spot an Amish buggie… I’d know I was on the right track. I remember meeting my first brown recluse in a box while I was unpacking with rubber gloves and wondering which one of us was going to make it out alive. I remember dreading- fearing- the heat and humidity and wondering if I would ever blow dry my hair again. Would you believe me if I told you that I can’t wait to feel that summer sun on my skin this year? (Cause my husband wouldn’t believe me).
So much has changed. Well… that’s only partly true. So much of me has changed. I used to look out my kitchen window and see Pamela’s garden. She planted it. She raised her family here. It was hers. I now look out my kitchen window… my favorite view from the house… and see the memories I knew we’d make here. I see my kids learning to ride their bikes, and figuring out soccer, and a baseball diamond mowed into our pasture.
I don’t feel overwhelmed, I feel calm. I don’t feel stressed, I feel at peace. I used to wonder how a couple of suburbia grads made their way to this place and why on earth we thought we should… and now I’m just so grateful that God knows better than I do.
We’ve got new piglets- seven- and more on the way anytime. We’ve got new baby chicks and more eggs than we can manage coming each day. We’ve got baby ducks and a married couple of peacocks. We’ve got green in the woods and Tom’s already starting to sneeze. It’s all familiar. It’s comfortable now. New life. New memories. New wonders…
Same place. Same people. And yet, not at all the same of either.
I’m grateful that I can never see the whole picture. I’m grateful that although I hoped, I couldn’t have known. I’m grateful for the story that has already been told here… the million stories built up into one reminiscent smile… and I’m grateful for what’s yet untold. I know that this summer will bring more… life, death, stories, tears, pain, joy, laughter, sadness… I’m grateful.
And yes, I’m looking forward to that summer sun… humidity and all.