This deep into winter, I tend to forget what is so wonderful about the farm. The ground is frozen, the garden is dead, the leaves are gone. Away from it, I begin to think it’s just like anywhere else. It’s just a patch of ground way out in the country, and we’d be just as happy someplace smaller. Someplace easier to manage. Someplace closer to town.
Then we go there again, and I know none of that is true.
Even now, in this cold and dead time of year, this place has a magic that is utterly and completely its own. Every time we go there – whether it’s mid-summer and the corn is getting tall in the field, or mid-winter and ice crusts any and all furrows in the ground – we find ourselves happy, unwilling to leave, and completely at peace.
Which is why I’m happy to tell you that we are officially (and kind of unexpectedly, based on the back and forth that was going on the last few months) the new owners of the farm. Middle Field Farm.
We’re still working out the specifics of, well, everything. But in the meantime I am planning our biggest garden ever; I am planning many relaxing summer days wandering the woods and golden fields; I am planning lots of hard work planting trees and mowing fields and repairing and improving and maintaining. I am planning lots of planning.
And I am so excited.