Relative Something

After spending a day in bed, recuperating from a fever, it feels odd to step out onto our property again. Just one day, and I feel like a stranger. Maybe spending much of that time buried in a book that describes a farm in the Shenandoah Valley contributes to my feeling alienated. That, and the fact I have been busying myself with visualizations of what our place will become over time, based on the inspirations and energy of Joel Salatin’s writing.

Cyndie, poking at the embers in the smoldering brush pile

When I stepped out yesterday evening, I was back to the place with the fence project in limbo. We have provided funds for the purchase of material for the two paddocks. We now await arrival of the boards, posts, wire, and accessories, and then we hope for good weather and available laborers.

One thing I am okay practicing is, patience. We haven’t even been here 3-months yet. I still don’t know what the property will be like during the spring thaw. We hope to be here for many years, so taking our time to get these fences just right is very important to us. I want to remember to be patient about accomplishing all the things we are envisioning. I also want to be cognizant of the many possibilities that we haven’t even thought of yet.

In this moment, I am back at the day-job, striving to return to normal function. As always, things are moving fast, and also moving slow. We are where we always are, right in the middle, …enjoying everything about it.