Last Year At This Time...

Last year at this time I had decided to start writing a book. I wrote 6 entries and then stopped. It was a lot of work! Today I went back and started rereading what I had written. Hm. Would anyone read my book if I were to keep writing? A few, no doubt...

So today I will run it past you. My book would certainly not be exciting--no adventures or mysteries. I'm not sure I have what it takes for this...so you can be honest or be kind or you can be silent. LOL! This was the 1st entry.

Blessings,
Jean


Chapter 1: January

Anyone who has lived in Wisconsin for any number of years can tell you that the January thaw is always welcome. On the farm we prefer the ground stay frozen so the tractor doesn’t sink while feeding round bales, but the above-zero weather is considered a Godsend. The snow and cold came in December this year, and January, according to my boys, has been sweatshirt weather. Normally this would be the month we brace ourselves for below zero winds that slice through our down jackets and make our bones hurt; instead the children and I were outside playing basketball today. We’ve an old hoop in the gravel driveway. My youngest has to work rather hard to get us out there, but once he does, we seem to have a lot of fun. Have you ever wondered why it is so hard to toss our endless tasks aside for a few moments that will become good memories in the years to come? That is what our move to the farm was meant to be—a place to live life to the fullest; I don’t suppose, in the long run, any of us will regret it.

We live in the corner of the state known as the driftless area. One of the glaciers seemed to have gone around us leaving beautiful hills and valleys flowing with trout streams. If you were to walk along the road with me to the top of the second hill, you could see for miles around. The distant hills, blue against the horizon, are usually hazy. Most of the land is cultivated, but there are wooded hillsides and grassy ravines. If your walk would bring you out at the right time of day, you might hear the call of the wild turkey or see the white tail of a deer bounding through the fields.

Shortly after buying our farm, we found an old map that identified the farms in our area by the name given them by their owner; ours was Fairview. Someone had walked along the ridge as we do, and they, too, fell in love with all that they could see. The railroad track went through a corner of the property at that time; we have the old rightaway there, grown up in brambles and scrub. The ridge has rich, deep soil, and the pastures have streams and springs that have never gone dry. A dam was built on one of the springs, creating a small pond for the cattle and is used as a fishing hole by my boys; over the hill is a small wood. Fairview, indeed.

A few years after buying our first parcel of land, we were able to purchase another located a short distance down the gravel road. This, too, had a small wood, a pasture, and fields, but it also included an old, white farmhouse. We moved in about the time my oldest was ready to start school, and that was the beginning of another journey: homeschooling. That was twelve years ago.

I suppose there would be plenty of folks who would tell us we were crazy for moving to the farm. The work is hard and the pay is slim. I gave up my teaching job to stay home with the children, and my husband took a severance package offered him during a company merger to switch hats—from engineer to farmer. Life is good here. We have twelve cats, a whole herd of Simmental cattle, one donkey, and several chickens. I can’t imagine a better place to raise a family.

It’s January now, which means the woodstove never goes out. Everyone who comes to visit is always attracted to its warmth and cheerful fire. If you come on in and pull up a chair, I’ll pour you a cup of tea, and we can invite the outside cats in to warm their toes with us. We can chat a while, and perhaps the cows will wander by in the pasture below our window. If the donkey brays, we can grab a carrot and run down to say hello to her; but be careful not to let her eat your coat. The sunsets can be gorgeous this time of year, so stay a while; if the clouds are gone, we can watch Orion and the Seven Sisters dance across the night sky. Will you come?