Country roads wound through toy train villages and finally onto a gravel road which ended at a cheerful buttercream 220 year old farmhouse with its welcoming blue doors and resident dogs wagging around. I hopped out of the car and just let my surroundings soak in.
A high wind whistled through the tops of the trees and sent the clouds rolling across the sky which was framed on all sides by mountains. The tinkling (like chimes) of a stream tripping over ice and roots sent music into the air and the scent of woodsmoke seeped into my skin. I was in heaven…. absolute heaven.
I was soon greeted by R. and M. I have always loved R., the daughter of Linda and Tom (who I wrote about here and here), for her gentle spirit and authentic self. Unlike so many people one meets in this life, R. is simply and completely… well… R. She’s not struggling to morph into the PTA president, June Cleaver, or a Eminem-listening soccer mom. She does not live outside of herself.
We took a tour of the farm with the snow crunching beneath our boots and wide smiles on our faces. The farm looked like an Andrew Wyeth painting come to life. I could just see the brush strokes carving out trees, buildings, and leaning fence posts with their shadows dancing out over the snowy hills.
R. and M. transformed the upstairs of the barn into a stage and concert space. Light trickled through the wide boards and highlighted the rugs which appeared lonely without instruments and the rhythmic tap of a musician’s toe.
Serving as tour guide extraordinaire, she showed me each outbuilding with Vanna White arm gestures and graciously pointed out interesting details while I snapped pictures and imagined everything in sepia tones.
The farm had quite a collection of outbuildings: spring house, summer kitchen, chicken house, garden shed, etc. On a side note: I adore outbuildings. In fact, I claimed several of the outbuildings as my very own while touring the farm. I reserve the right to move into any of of them at any time (except perhaps the chicken house… because it might be occupied by laying hens). R. & M., consider yourself warned.
Anyone else adore outbuildings?
The tour will have to continue in another post. We have egg collecting to do here on our own small farm and I’ve been typing & reminiscing for quite some time now. I hope you are enjoying the Winter Odyssey. Thank you for your patience with the posts because I’ve been a bit under the weather of late and blogging has been rather low on the list (if you know what I mean).