I often talk about the farm...it's one of our favorite places in all the world. Life takes on a different rhythm when we are there. It is a place where we can slow down and recharge. It's a place with beauty as far as the eye can see. Fields and fields of gently rolling hills covered in crops. Pastures with cows scattered amongst the fields of crops. Where rustic structures meet modern day. Where you actually use the phrase, 'ride in to town'. And some of the most breathtaking sunsets I've ever seen have been painted. I'm grateful we have such a unique place to raise our kids. I always look forward to time spent there. This weekend we are headed down to celebrate Avi-Kate's birthday and spend sometime just being. Life is simpler. As long as I live I will never tire of the simple beauty that surrounds me when we are there. Here are a few snapshots from when we were there in May.
Field of corn...it's been several weeks since we've seen it and I'm betting it's huge now.
Sun setting over the cow pasture in front of the farm house.
The road in front of the house.
Stories on the sleeping porch with Nanny.
Farmhouse. It's the house Andy's mom grew up in.
Sweet, deep sleep at the farm due to working and playing hard.
A trip to town can include checking out the chicks and ducks at the local hardware supply store.
There's always an opportunity to get your hands dirty.
Our dog is happiest when he is roaming the farm and playing with Lou. (One of Andy's cousin's dog.)
Cows in the distance next to a field of corn.
I feel like this poem, made famous (again) this winter in the Dodge Ram commercial, sums up life at the farm.
And on the 8th day, God looked down on his planned paradise and said, "I need a caretaker." So God made a farmer.
God said, "I need somebody willing to get up before dawn, milk cows, work all day in the fields, milk cows again, eat supper and then go to town and stay past midnight at a meeting of the school board." So God made a farmer.
"I need somebody with arms strong enough to rustle a calf and yet gentle enough to deliver his own grandchild. Somebody to call hogs, tame cantankerous machinery, come home hungry, have to wait lunch until his wife's done feeding visiting ladies and tell the ladies to be sure and come back real soon -- and mean it." So God made a farmer.
God said, "I need somebody willing to sit up all night with a newborn colt. And watch it die. Then dry his eyes and say, 'Maybe next year.' I need somebody who can shape an ax handle from a persimmon sprout, shoe a horse with a hunk of car tire, who can make harness out of haywire, feed sacks and shoe scraps. And who, planting time and harvest season, will finish his forty-hour week by Tuesday noon, then, pain'n from 'tractor back,' put in another seventy-two hours." So God made a farmer.
God had to have somebody willing to ride the ruts at double speed to get the hay in ahead of the rain clouds and yet stop in mid-field and race to help when he sees the first smoke from a neighbor's place. So God made a farmer.
God said, "I need somebody strong enough to clear trees and heave bails, yet gentle enough to tame lambs and wean pigs and tend the pink-combed pullets, who will stop his mower for an hour to splint the broken leg of a meadow lark. It had to be somebody who'd plow deep and straight and not cut corners. Somebody to seed, weed, feed, breed and rake and disc and plow and plant and tie the fleece and strain the milk and replenish the self-feeder and finish a hard week's work with a five-mile drive to church.
"Somebody who'd bale a family together with the soft strong bonds of sharing, who would laugh and then sigh, and then reply, with smiling eyes, when his son says he wants to spend his life 'doing what dad does.'" So God made a farmer.
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