I used to be a city girl.
I’m married to a farmer.
I live in the corn belt.
My house is out in the country.
It’s no wonder I find farms noteworthy & photogenic.
Sometimes revisiting your old stomping grounds can just make you sad.
Recently, Frankie had to go home to Ohio for a funeral and like every time we go home, he stopped by to see our old house. We lived there for a very long time and it was our safe place, our hideaway in the woods, our place to find peace from the chaos of the world. We lived in Shawnee State Forest in the foothills to the Appalachian Mountains and it was a haven for too many reasons for me to blather on and on about. Suffice it to say, it was where we healed from very traumatic events in both our lives and became the best of friends and learned to move forward. ‘Nuff said there.
Our beautiful 20 acres was bought by an entrepeneur who saw the potential we always had, but he had the money to make it happen. He turned our corner of the world into a beautiful wedding garden and reception hall and threw outrageously fabulous weddings. FYI, we got married in our front yard 10 years previous to that, and the photo ops were stunning.
Our old farmhouse always stayed as the caretaker’s home behind the scenes.
Fast forward 10 more years later, and the entrepeneur lost his millions in the Great Recession a few years ago and now has all but abandoned the business. Our old property is on the market again for many 100’s of thousands of dollars more than we sold it for back in 2002. Although we would love to buy it back, we are love rich and cash poor.
So back to his stop there last month…
He took gobs of photos, but they are so incredibly sad. The old place is no longer as we remember it…overgrown…falling apart…totally neglected.
I went through all the photos over and over and decided to only keep the not-so-sad…the ones that can still remind me of home.
~from this angle it’s not quite so bad, and my Granma Amy’s snowball bush is in the foreground and flourishing~
~our mountain runoff creek is still wild and sun-dappled and just as I recall~
~and my ‘loveseat’ rock that Frankie hoisted up & out of the creek to sit and contemplate life, while extremely overgrown, is still there on the creek bank~
Edited to add::
After writing this post, I needed to see some shots of my old life in Ohio. This is how I remember our creek and our loveseat.
This is also a CAT OF THE DAY PHOTO
Most of my cat photos end up on twitter, because I cannot resist #WhiskersWednesday, #KittyLoafMonday, #JellyBellyFriday, #Caturday, or #SelfieSunday But it’s OK because Cali & Lexi are game to pose for me. It’s like I’m a cheesy photog saying “make love to the camera”
I am a crazy cat lady.
That is all.
Except that if you want to find me, I’d totally tweet with you.
But yeah, just to warn you I am a #TotallyUncensoredCrazyCatLady
But if you prefer more conventional yarn posts, pattern links and the like; or don’t want to be a twit(terer)
visit me on facebook::
I know I don’t talk about my Daddy here at all. But there are reasons.
My Daddy is amazing and brilliant and I am still a daddy’s girl at 45 years old. My Daddy also has in-operable terminal cancer. I have been able to spend the past 6 years with him because he is brave and noble and awesome and can SUCK IT UP SOLDIER and deal with all the BS that goes with his diagnosis & treatment. So yeah, every moment I can spend with my Daddy counts. HUGE.
This particular day? GREAT.
He was able to forget the big C for just awhile.
He left the farm for the big city in the early 60’s, so it’s been a very long time since he has seen a Shetland pony and her 1 ft tall baby.
Seriously ~ 12 inches at the shoulder ~ it was so cute, but the bull in the background was all “if I could get to you, I would be your worst nightmare”.
We talked and laughed and for that I am thankful.
That is what life and family and finding some zen is all about.
Have a ridiculously amazing day.