Quiet mornings drinking coffee at the kitchen table, watching the chickens feud with the stellar jays outside.
Hands, floured to the elbow, kneading bread dough.
The crunch of boots in the leaves, walking the paths of our woods.
Tucked in close to the wood stove in the evenings, book in hand.
The last two months have felt like such a dream in so many ways. We moved into the farm house and it immediately felt like home. So many people were worried that we would feel unmoored and lonesome out here at the edge of the county, in the middle of nowhere as they put it, but that hasn’t been the case. Jasper and I are a bit hermitish in our own ways, and being out here is calming to our souls. The neighbors are wonderful and warm and kind, but they’re not too close and there’s not too many. There are things to do, to keep ourselves busy; there are things to plan for and dream about; there are things to watch, and there are places to wander.
Jasper and I actually toyed with the idea of not hooking up to the internet. We’ve enjoyed our disconnect, and our girls have thrived without the siren song of Netflix. But then, I missed my blog. I missed being able to email people and check on utility accounts. I missed looking for interesting recipes to bookmark and try out, and we both missed the ability to research things online, especially things pertaining to homesteading or smallholding or whatever this is. Because sometimes – often – we don’t know what the heck we’re doing, and the internet has been a lifesaver.
And so here we are, connected again.