the farm

Today was a gorgeous spring day, heavy rain, leaves bursting out and everything turning green so quickly, guests down the hill to see the spring wildflowers near their peak, hot enough in the afternoon to feel it, but not sap my energy, and cool enough in the evening to make a hot bath enjoyable and worth the work. I relished much of the day, and despite loving many moments of it, I'm still ok with my plan to leave the farm. A couple of people have asked why I made that decision, and it's hard to explain.

When people come out here, after being away for a year, or ten years, the most common reaction is pleasure that nothing has changed. Now sure, things have changed -- this tree has fallen down, that one has grown, a wifi antenna has sprouted up on the side of the house, and there are computers hidden around. This bridge has fallen apart, that one has been rebuilt; the barn has been remodeled into a chicken coop, the kichen floor has taken a turn for the worse, horses no longer roam in the upper field, and the pond has silted up. But the quirky essense of this place remains the same, peoples' relationships with it remain the same. There is a timeless quality that provokes a sense of nostalgia even while living here day to day.

I've lived here for three years, and they have been three of the richest, deepest, most memorable years of my life, after which the boom years in the Bay Area pale, and the time before and college are only distantly remembered shadows. Only when I get back to my childhood do the memories have the vibrancy and newness of my first summer here. And I guess that's the thing; my next two summers here, the winters, are all blurring together, life here has lost that edge of excitement and exploration, and settled down to a routine, to a cycle. That has its undeniable attractions, but I'm finding I'm still too young to give in to them, and so I've been drawn off to find something new, both by exploring abroad for increasing amounts of time, and now, by moving.

I'm savouring every last day, and the end will not be easy -- not the least because I have to lug all my stuff back up that hill! -- but after all, it's not the end at all; I know for sure that sometime I'll return after a year or two's absense, and exclaim, "Why, not a thing has changed!" That certianty is a blessing.