A Change of Scenery

“Running out of propane sent me running for the farm.”

I had a lovely, slow start to my morning yesterday. I had a full day planned out in “the office”, reading and editing the rough draft. Went out and turned the furnace on ahead of time to warm it up since it was a frigid 17 degrees. I fixed my coffee, gathered my book bag, kissed Mr. FixIt goodbye, and headed out to TOW-Wanda.

I wasn’t out there 20 minutes when it seemed to be getting colder instead of warmer. I got up and checked the air blowing out of the heater vents…barely warm. I lit the burner on the stove and even on high, there was barely a flame. I was very close to running out of propane. So, I shut it all down, packed everything back up, and headed back in the house.

As I’ve shared before, we are in the midst of renovating the master bath, which usually has Mr. FixIt hopping. However, with it being 17 degrees, he wasn’t very motivated to go out to the building and cut drywall. I knew I would be tempted to blow off what I intended to do and just hang out with my buddy all day. Instead, I announced there was a change of plans.

Since my book bag was already packed, I decided to come to the farm for a few days of intense editing time. After a snooze in the recliner, Mr. FixIt found the motivation to work on the bathroom…since his playmate wasn’t going to be there. It sounds like a win-win, I do believe. I arrived, fixed some lunch, and carried my coffee to the front window where Grandma always watched the world go by. My portable desk on my lap, my iPad open and at the ready, I found my gaze continually pulled to the view before me.

There is the clock I bought Mr. Virgo for his last Christmas. There is the little birdhouse my dear friend Charlotte gave me. You can see the newel post my Uncle Bud made for Grandma when I was a very little girl. He had a penchant for all things cedar. Out front, the bird feeders were attracting the usual flock of chickadees, finches, and tufted titmice. The doves gathered around on the ground below, scavenging what had been knocked aside by the others as they looked for their favorite tidbits among the seeds.

I kept hearing a banging sound I couldn’t identify. It sounded like the popping sound the old gas stove made before we switched out for the new one. I sat in the bathroom for twenty minutes waiting for it to kick off and back on but it never did. I sat in the bedroom and finally heard the sound again. It came from the front of the house. I walked around out front and couldn’t find anything and just as I was coming back inside, a gust of wind knocked something on the front porch and duplicated the sound. A little repositioning and the problem was solved.

The deep gong of the only wind chime I can tolerate let me know the breeze is picking up. It’s cold and white outside, but in here, it’s warm and toasty. We have free gas at the farm. My Pop-Pop always said, the free gas was worth more than the farm itself. I believe he is correct, from a strictly monetary and convenience standpoint. But I would beg to differ in the real value of these 74 acres. This is…and will always be…the home of my heart. It’s old. It’s drafty. The roof leaks in a couple places, but not bad. The linoleum flooring is cracked and has holes here and there…it’s pattern worn and faded. 

The original double hung windows are single paned in desperate need of a good washing. The nail heads show through on the old plaster and lathe walls. The boards creak in just the right areas to play the same tune I’ve heard all my life as I wander through the rooms. The pump kicks on out in the cellar house, reminding me our water doesn’t come through some treatment plant but is filtered through the sand and limestone far below my feet. It’s been briny ever since they capped off the wells on this property over 60 years ago.

As I write this, propped up in Grandma and Pop-Pop’s bed, the window is cracked open just enough so I can hear the soft gurgle of the creek beneath the bedroom window. You don’t really have to have the window open to feel the wind blowing outside. All you need to do is stand near the front or back door and hold out your hand. The wind blows around the edges quite easily.

A thought has been nagging me for a week till I finally figured it out. My grandma died 20 years ago March 2nd. It is so hard to believe she has been gone so long and I miss her every day. I think that’s one reason I love this farm so much. I know SHE loved it, and I loved her. This is where I feel closest to her.

Ok, so…I didn’t get as much done yesterday as I would have liked. That’s ok…my heart is full and my spirit is warmed by the rich memories these walls hold for me. I’ll take getting recharged here over stressing about edits…any day of the week. Today will be another day and I can start refreshed…coffee in hand…warmth in my heart. ❤️

““But watch out! Be careful never to forget what you yourself have seen. Do not let these memories escape from your mind as long as you live! And be sure to pass them on to your children and grandchildren.”

Deuteronomy 4:9 NLT