She's Afraid of a Light in the Dark

Last week, we spent three days down at my parents' home, the home I grew up in. It's very rural. My family settled there in the 1830's and started farming. My grandparents were the last generation to farm. But I feel a very strong tie to the land.

Brian and I went for a long walk, over to the cemetery, Farlow Grove. Five generations of my dad's family is buried there. Four generations of my mom's family is buried there. It's a small cemetery, probably on less than an acre of land. The wind always blows there. It's on top of a hill and you can see for miles. There are four poplar trees there that stand guard in the back quarter of the cemetery. I try to visit each time I go home. I took Baby C there once.

For years, B has talked about us buying some property there...maybe the old farmstead after my great-uncle dies, more because we would hate to see it go out of the family than anything else. But when we were there last week, B got a huge jones to buy a piece of land and to build some kind of modern kit home. It would be a weekend sort of place. We could leave the city a couple times a month to get away from it all.

Every time we go there, especially now that many of my issues with my family have been resolved, we receive an infusion of energy. I think it's about being able to step out of your life for a few days. You get perspective. Lately, we really feel like we're on a treadmill and it is wearing us down. We need a respit.

There are other benefits with the plan, as well. Baby C would get to spend more time with his grandparents, as would we. He'd have some room to run and play in the country. He'd be exposed to a different way of life. We could slow down. It would force us to relax. And my god, the stars.

I've never become used to how you can rarely see stars in the city. When I was little, my dad and sister and I would take a sleeping bag out and lay down in the back of our hatch back and watch meteor showers. To this day, I can't see a shooting star without thinking of my father's soft voice whispering, "There's one. Do you see it?"

So, we've pretty much committed to ourselves to do this. It will take a while to find the right piece of land. Design a home, etc. I want something on top of a hill, surrounded by woods, but with enough yard so we can sit out and watch the stars, enjoy the darkness. I want my baby to be able to chase lightning bugs. We want to build a house large enough to house a lot of guests. We want our friends from the city to come out with us. We want our friends from down there to spend time with us there as well.

So, we're starting to research. I think I'm going to call a realtor down there this week.  I'm going to try to not think about the amount of work it will take to do this. That is what scares me. But that is all doable. And nothing says it has to be done all at once.

Bon nuit.

Comments

[Margarita Mama]

You're an ambitious woman for even giving the NaMoBlowHO, (or whatever) a shot. I've been feeling like writing more, in a journaling kind of way that would be perfect fare for blogging, yet I still didn't even give the blogging daily a try.
It's unbelievable to hear you describe your home so lovingly and from such a new perspective. An unbelievable difference from how you felt when we met 11 years ago.
I'm totally coming to visit your country home to look at the stars. I claim the guest room with the private bath! (just throwing out a possible design idea)