I love our serene ponds, tucked
into the swayinggreen fields,
where a duck couple or two may
decide to rest for the night.
I love the hand built red barn,
which looks beautiful in a blanket
of dense fog; or shining in glory
in the sunrise; or surrounded by
the flaming yellows, oranges, reds,
and pinks of sunset; or covered
in fresh white snow, set in the
expanse of hay fields in contrast
with the brightblue sky.
I love my in laws’ history with
this place, which is nearing its
century mark. Almost everything
here was made and cherished by a
previous generation. My husband’s
paternal grandfather bought this
land in 1945 from the original
homesteaders. They then cleared
the fields of old growth timber by
hand. Ben’s dad remembers his
father dynamiting each and every
stump, afterward smoothing the
dirt for hay and, at one time,
also for strawberries.
I love the rickety old shack where
pigs were bred; the barn’s milking
stations; the machine shop.I love the dip in our lawn where
the farm’s original dirt-floor house
used to stand. I love the newer,
not-dirt-floor house built in the
’50s that Ben and I renovated
together to make our own.
And I love that our son gets to
grow up here, Lord willing, as the
next generation to enjoy the beauty
of creation, learning the values of
hard-but-satisfying work, the
faith and patience it takes to wait
for crops to grow, the compassion
and care for neighbors and little
animals, the reward in feeding and
helping those around us. This truly
is a piece of heaven, and we are
blessed to enjoy it together.Clockwise from top left: Evergreen violets nearly make a carpet of golden
sunshine. Delicate western trillium arrives around Easter, and red-
flowering currant and purple oaks toothwort color the fields.28 COUNTRY-MAGAZINE.COM FEBRUARY/MARCH 2018