Sunday, June 09, 2013
"Summer afternoon - Summer afternoon... the two most beautiful words in the English language."
Regular readers (poor souls) will know that I recently sold off 2/3 of my farmland. Yes, it was absolutely necessary financially, but also the right thing to do for any number of reasons. For one thing, I'm no longer alone on Jackass Hill (yep, that really is the name) - I have a lovely Amish family living near me, and they've brought cows and draft horses and the sound of children's laughter to the farm. (And unfortunately, homemade doughnuts...)
All that, though, doesn't necessarily make it easier for me to give up the land my late husband and I bought almost 20 years ago. We walked dogs, raised kids, and generally loved every foot of the property, and now when I walk with one dog I hear and see those happy ghosts, but I'm not yet to the point where those memories will make me happy. I know I'll get there, but when you live in the country, I think you become more deeply attuned to the wheel of the seasons, and I think every season I'll have to acknowledge the change in how I'm living now. I'm actually pretty happy now, yes, but that doesn't mean that part of me isn't still sad, I've discovered.
So this afternoon, the first afternoon that is really "summer" and not "spring" to my senses, Lucy the Dog and I were walking at the top of the hill, figuring out where to lay the new property line. I was thinking about the part of the property over the other hill and through the woods that I'll miss.
God/dess, The Universe, whatever you choose (I don't have a preference) had other plans, apparently. There was a fallen tree that we couldn't get over, so we were forced to walk uphill more into a wetter, more overgrown area than I normally walk. Because it was mucky and overgrown, we followed a deer trail through the wood's edge, and eventually it led us back out to the very top of the big hill.
It was a beautiful walk, with some very magical spots, through an area largely unexplored, and it showed me both literally and allegorically that there is much yet to be discovered; to turn my attention from what lay behind to what new beauty and excitement lie ahead.
(Apparently it is also suggested that I wear boots.)