Stories from the Farm, Home and Family – October 26, 2011

October 26, 2011

It has been two weeks since our last visit to the farm. When we bought this place fifteen years ago, we assumed we would have a cabin built for weekend retreats within a few years. We had visions of leisurely weekends spent away from our weekday work, a peaceful and restful respite from our long work days. We could read, walk the woods, garden, watch the birds and other critters, soak in the silence, slow the pace of our lives. Still waiting…

But, we can’t wallow in pity that our plans haven’t materialized as we had hoped. We are blessed to have satisfying work to do, and we make the most of the time we can visit the farm. It does provide a few hours of peace and silence, and there is certainly always something of strong interest! During this visit, Jerry’s 90 year old, WWII vet father joined us. The air was cool, but we got him out of the truck, settled him in a chair, and covered him up with a blanket so he could enjoy the autumn display.Then off to the garden we went, basket in hand. Twelve of the tomatoes were finally red; another dozen were rotting on the ground, and the rest were still firm and green. I made the decision to pick them all, and pull the onions as well. Frost could be arriving any day, and then snow to follow. And who knows when we will visit again?

The blueberries were faring well; even the tiny stub of Herbert seemed stable. I guess we will need to make another trip if the weather is predicted to be too cold–they must have a burlap blanket to cover them for the winter.

Jerry and I walked across the field, and into the woods–the spicy scent of autumn was overwhelming, and conjured so many memories of autumns past. Amazing what aromas can do to the brain! We walked among the trees, commenting with delight on the colorful carpet of red, orange, yellow, brown, dazzling with the additional light filtering through the bare tree branches.

Time to get back to the truck. Sunday evening and the sun is going down; Jerry’s dad is dozing; Monday is calling…

About Connie Kerr Vogt