There is a blanket of dew on the grass this morning. Something strange for this time of year when usually our clay soil here cracks with dryness, and the blistering late July heat starts early, before sun up.
The chickens are waiting at the back door. The reflection of the grass with the rising sun behind them makes them look like magical creatures. A rooster crows further off. One hen finds a tasty frog and runs while the others chase her insisting they found it first. I spy through the kitchen window with my first cup of coffee, letting my eyes move from the chickens right outside my secret perch to the sheep who seem miles away grazing. I can only see their silhouettes. Over to the right are the milk goats. They don’t seem to be in a hurry. They are un-uncharacteristically quite this morning. Sally is lounging on the pallet in front of the barn and it looks like Teeny, Racy, and Ling Ling are inside, the others are scoping for missed hay in the feeder.
I’m in between worlds right now. In between the new life and new farm that is about to begin for me and the Old life and this farm where I have spent the last 5 years studying the dew on the ground. But more this is the place I cut my teeth on farming. I still have a long way to go and I’m sure I always will but this farm is full of my firsts. First walks with my goat kids. First milk goats, first chickens, first births, first deaths, first chicken hatchings, first real garden, first cheese, first time being without power for a length of time, and on and on.
Now, I go from my school of self taught homesteading on 7 acres, (backed- up mind you, with multiple calls to real farming friends to make sure I’m doing things rights) to 400 acres most wooded, which I’ll simply watch over its grand beauty. I have a lot in store for me, a lot of lessons to be learned. There is a part of me that is scared. Scared I’ll fail. Scared I’ll let my animals down. Scared I’ll struggle. But I feel a call to move forward into this new chapter in my life.
So far I have moved about half of the things in the house. I have downsized considerably which has made me feel very good and clear about my intentions of simplifying my world. I’ve made multiple trips to the good will and I have a contribution to the land fill which I am horrified and embarrassed about. Going through this process has made me so aware of my own over use and overconsumption and excessive “stuff” gathering that I have so conveniently swept under the proverbial rug.
Working room by room helps, mindfully making choices about what belongs and what doesn’t. I sift through saved magazines, recipes, to-do lists, little random notes and phone numbers which I find is also a history, a journal in a way, and I wonder sometimes what I was thinking when I saved it. And, there is a part of me which wonders if someday I won’t be tearing the house apart looking for them in some great profound need. I finally decide No and in the trash it goes.
After next weekend the trailers come out and the friends gather and the great move is on. I’m looking forward to making the full transition. To wake up in the morning and drink my first cup of the day studying the dew on the grass at the new place. I’m looking forward to the new surroundings and the new trees and the new places to walk and new birds and the new bugs. But I am grateful to this place I have called home, grateful for the experiences I have had even though sometimes painful, I have had many moments of joy here.
Embarrassed masses to the landfill? Yep, you're an Oklahoma farmer.
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I wish you the best of luck in your move. I'm always intrigued about how well you've learned the land and yet you'll bring to life a new land.
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