In March of this year, things were beginning to sprout up on the farm, and I started growing a person. So many things have happened since – the peak season has come and gone, family and friends have visited and departed, all while this little boy has been diligently working in solitude, and now, with the days turned inward and our Christmas tree casting an inviting light on the den, we await his arrival, our grandest present.
Can you see the pure mixture of fear and intense concentration in those eyes? Our dog Todd looks like this every minute of every day that both John and I are not within a 25-foot radius of him. His dog world has one rule. We never, ever leave him. . . ever. And in return, he will be the best dog on the planet. Certain Saturdays, we do leave him. We buckle down the house – twice – because he’s been known to jump through screens and open doors.
Every late May, the Agapanthus arrive. Like soft, little firecrackers, their purple petals light up the farm, doing their part to create beauty and happiness. And every year late May, my Dad somehow remembers to ask me if the Agapanthus are blooming. He knows and loves the farm so much that he remembers these small details. However when you spend any extended time here, you realize that this detail isn’t really all that small.