There were tears of loss and love. There was death on the farm. There was new life. Flooding. Fighting. Forgiving. Because of the things we have fought for our farm continues to grow and change and thrive. We were held up by our friends more than we held others up. We scrabbled. We took time to swing on the porch swing. We took time to hang the porch swing and create a margin in our life that allows for this quiet time that we build our relationships instead of hauling hay bales and digging holes and chasing livestock, though we did plenty of that too. Perhaps too much. Damn fences.
Posted on: Wed, 31 Dec 2014 18:01:50 +0000
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