Moving. I. Hate. It. I’m the kind of person who should have remained on her parents’ farm until the end of time. But instead, I’m moving again. Okay, we’re actually just selling off a few acres then wandering down the road a half a mile to build behind the trees. But it’s still technically a move. One that involves putting our house on the market, showing it to prospective buyers, packing everything up, moving all our worldly possessions into the new house. Blllaach!
We moved into Swallowfield (our current farm) nearly a year ago. It’s been a tremendous amount of work. The cockleburs and burdock alone were enough to make a saint curse. Then there was fencing and mowing and painting and stripping wallpaper and…here’s a big one…moving the barn.
I put in a whole fence during a thunderstorm and smiled the whole time. Foolish, I know, but it was for my horses, and for me my home is where my horses are. Once we brought in our shorthorn cattle…ahhhhhh. We now have two new calves. Cute enough to make you cry.
When we first walked through our prospective house here on Swallowfield the smell of cigarette smoke was so strong my eyes stung. According to the realtor who is listing it for sale, we’ve gotten rid of that odor. I’m hoping we haven’t simply drowned it in the scent of horse manure, but I’m not entirely sure that’s the case so it would be best if any potential buyers really like eau of equine with a little hint of cattle cologne. :)
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm the luckiest person in the world. I feel so blessed to live here. To write books, to work the land, and to spend time with my family, some of whom are actually human. Here is the view from my favorite room...the three season porch.
So how about you? What's your favorite spot in the world?