on the changing of seasons.
We've switched to our warmer sheets & had my alpaca socks on when I crawled into bed the other night, "I think this is my favorite time of year at the farm" I said to Matt.
Here's why: Spring - It was really stinking beautiful, but we are so damn busy we cannot enjoy it. Getting ready for the planting party was stressful for us. Every single waking second we have is spent working outside and crying about how much trash there was at this farm (okay only one of us with that crying part.)
Summer- Summer was magical, seeing the lavender take off, watching the farm unfurl her green, lush beauty & making some major headway on projects outside. But again, not enough nights spent under our twinkle lights just us, a lot of events & 30+ weddings. Wedding season tends to swallow me up, chew me up, and then I come sputtering to the top again, gasping for air, reaching out for connection and pot roast and Sundays spent watching the Lions.
Fall- This is magic right now. We can still be outside. I check things off the list slowly. I had a weird obsession with discussing with Matt where we will store everything this winter. "But like, do you think the patio furniture can stay in the barn?! OMG SO PERFECT!!!" A reminder that we moved here on Dec. 5 last year. We literally just tossed everything we had into the garage and called it good. The leaves changing and foggy cool mornings have me drunk on fall. No bugs. No heatwave. Slower traffic on our road. The most wicked beautiful sunsets imaginable. Cooking dinner again. Yes.
Winter- We've had a winter at the farm. You may remember all that jazz about tractors, and snow removal, and learning how to function as people who have land and an old house and a lot more responsibility. Or maybe you remember the last time I will ever be allowed to paint because I listened to Justin Beiber too loudly and rolled to the beat instead of using my brain so the entire ceiling in our living room has gray roller marks. Yup.
The seasons of this place are addicting. There is so much comfort for me in their changing. Two nights ago I took the trash out in my PJs. I rolled the big loud bulky bin down the gravel driveway and noticed that the sun was setting to the left of our neighbor's barn. A completely different spot than just a few weeks ago. I felt so small. I love it.
But with this change something in me lights. Goal setting. Changes. I'm a firm believer in you need to absolutely evaluate everything right when its 'fresh' to remember what needs to happen differently next time. If I sit down in March and try and plan our summer it'll be like me trying to name elements on the periodic table (sorry Matt). So, I sit and make notes and lists and things that we need to change. I know already we will need a lot more staff. I know already we need to move the studio. I want a new pole barn. I will probably do the stupid responsible adult thing and move our operation into the garage for the 2017 season. Unless someone reading this is a pole barn fairy and wants to help me.
I look around this place and sometimes cannot believe how much we've done. Those are good days. Other days I look around and only see projects. Those are bad days. The come and go. But most are really good. And soon I'll be on here, bitching and moaning about waiting for snow to melt so we can start seeds and start clearing branches and start doing all the things we long to do on the coldest days in March, but until then --- I'm just fine wrapped in a blanky during a cold September rain, drinking hot tea & really loving my alpaca socks.