Wednesday, May 4, 2011















I remember that moment I decided to leave my hometown, Ohio. It was spring and it rained everyday for 2 weeks. I was teaching inner city school and I felt depressed. Where oh where do the sunshine go? Grey skies and pouring rain filled my world. My older sister phoned that day from Venice, California  and kept bragging about her long walks on the beach and the endless sunshine that filled her days. I nearly wept. She had me. Something in me said, "you gotta go to the coast." 
And so I did. I left Ohio for sunny southern California. If California teaches you anything at all, and it has a lot to offer, it teaches you to appreciate rain. 
Fast forward 20 years and I'm living in the seasons again. Rain rain rain. I want to catch it, store it, save it, bless it, bathe in it, drink it. I know it sounds dramatic but yesterday on my drive to pick up our raw milk share the country roads, the shimmering green leaves, the wicked river rapids, made me feel like I was cruising through the rainforest. In California it's common to go at least 8 months without a drop of liquid from the sky. At first I loved it. Constant sunshine made for easy days. I'm certain this is where I developed a passion for the outdoors. But through the years I forgot what loud passionate thunderstorms felt like. The intensity of fast rolling clouds and sudden weather patterns shifting in a flash. I missed seeing green!  Now, I'm living the precious experience of a mix of seasons, a nice flux of change, consistent diversity, something I live for.

You can see from our temporary collapsed bridge that we cannot move the cows across the river today. At least not until we get a boat to haul their water buggy, minerals, baking soda and fence gear. A woman in the neighborhood stopped by a few months back and told me she got married on that old swinging bridge. Her father, Carl previous caretaker, used to ride his ATV across it! The first time I stepped on that old wobbly old  bridge was when Michael and I came out with Joel to see Buxton Farm for the first time. Whoa! Talk about a quick learning curve. The old tomboy came out in me and I followed Joel's footsteps with a shaky heart! Felt like I was holding on for dear life. Now as it hangs on its hinges, and the rain keeps coming and the river keeps rising and the turtles in our pond mate, and the frogs keep singing, I sleep soundly. Our garden needs no well water. The earth in her beauty soaks up the moisture and everywhere I look I see endless fertility. It feels good to be home. 

4 comments:

Wendy said...

LOVE this!!!!!!

Sheri said...

And that, Folks, is a LOT of WATER!!

desiree said...

Well said! This past winter in MN, we had an opportunity to have a new appreciation for ALL the snow we received. It's been awhile since we've had 7 feet of snow, in the Twin Cities area.

Jennifer Robin said...

This speaks to my heart. I grew up in Southern California, but moved to the temperate rain forest of Washington State 6 years ago. Not everyone around here loves the rain like I do, but like your garden, my yard never requires the use of well water to keep it green. Sunshine is a bit of a challenge to get enough of now, but I would not give up the sweet smell of the forest around me for one day on a beach in sunny So Cal, not for love nor money.

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