Listening to the grandkids play when they haven’t been together for several months is kind of like watching middle school football, a little awkward at first. They got the hang of it after a bit. We went four-wheeling and then for an evening walk. The two year old pointed out the moon, the jet trail, and the birds. The six and seven year olds just raced each other down the road.
Seeing so far without seeing another house is dramatically different at the farm from that of my view in town. Doves call in the morning in both places, along with other birds I can’t identify just from sound, so some things remain constant.
Slowly, slowly, the farm house is getting cleaned out. Someday it will be torn down and another built to replace it. There are some decisions that are easy, and some that are difficult. I got the file cabinet contents sorted. We need to have a bonfire. S’mores! There is one set of children’s furniture we haven’t figured out yet. Where will it get used the most? Who has room for it? A good friend made it for our kids thirty plus years ago and it’s hard to think of letting it go. So much letting go.
The roses at the farm are beautiful. Some of those plants are close to thirty years old. Their fragrance fills the air around them. Nature outdid herself when she protected such beauty with those nasty thorns. One of the roses I planted in Fort Collins is doing so good, I’m afraid it will die this coming winter from overstimulation. It is absolutely covered with gorgeous yellow roses and it’s fragrance is so sweet. I’m always so disappointed when a rose doesn’t smell. I know breeders lose bouquet when they breed out the thorns for commercial use, but it is not the same thing – for me. I like the essence of rose.
and so it grows….