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"We're farmers, hooray!"

"We're farmers, hooray!", said my oldest Girl on moving day. I was so proud.

Moving day. We survived. Barely.

I haven't blogged in forever due to the epic craziness of 2014 which so far has included all the work of preparing a home for sale, selling said home in span of one week, and moving out a month later. What a whirlwind. If I stop to think about it, I'll turn into an emotional puddle about all the memories made and hard work we put in at our old place over the last ten years. So, I'm not going to talk about it, at least not right now. I'll just put that away for later.

Because now we are happily, if chaotically, shacked up on my husband's family farm. THE FAMILY FARM, like, for the last 100+ years. The Captain and I are the 4th generation of Girgens living here, raising the 5th generation here in this old farmhouse. Cue emotional puddle. Good thing I am nostalgic for my own childhood farm. I will just take that happy, running around the farm barefoot in cowsh*t vibe from my childhood and insert it into this farm. There. Done. If only it was that easy to feel at home.

As I have been preparing for and digesting the idea of this move all summer, I have been distilling down my ideas of what makes a place home. In simplest terms, that magic thing is simply time. That's it. 'Accumulation of experiences', if you want to be fancy about it. New paint is nice. A new dishwasher is really nice (YES PLEASE, THIS OLD FARMHOUSE DOESN'T HAVE ONE). But just time. Luckily, since my husband grew up here, and I've been visiting here since I've known him, we've got a head start. Thank God.

My morning view.
 I think I secretly always wanted to be a farmer when I grew up.  Here we go.  












Comments

  1. So many precious memories to hold onto and many many new memories to make. Your morning view is beautiful.

    ReplyDelete

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