Dreaming for the future

Unlike most people, we didn't have a plan for what we were going to do with our property when we purchased it. All we knew is that we didn't want it sold to someone who would replace all the goldenrod, sassafras, ramps, blackberries, sumac, black walnuts, garlic scapes, bee balm, and yellow rocket with asphalt. We didn't want to see the bible verse torn down and replaced with a clinic sign. We didn't want the children's graveyard from the 19th century desecrated by a parking lot.

For the last four years, it's been about uncovering what this land had to offer, guiding it into becoming something more, all while being good stewards of its natural bounty. Through my husband's incredibly hard work nearly every day of those four years, it's become a beautiful location to wander and wonder.

When I walk through it, I often dream of ways to share this place with others. When I first pull in, I imagine other cars in the small gravel parking lot he built to keep our own cars from sinking into the mud during the rainy season.

I can see people watching their children play in the beautiful lawn areas he keeps immaculate while enjoying a tail-gate picnic lunch under one of the mature pine trees he saved from overgrown vines and weeds.

I imagine people tending small garden plots we provided for them in the central turnaround hoop, growing things that they could never grow in their apartment container gardens in the now rich soil he's amended with leaves he mulched, bagged, and hauled in from a half dozen yards in the neighborhood for months.

I see people walking through the bee garden, teaching their children about nature and the interconnectedness of all life, while volunteers are tending the small plots of flowering perennials and annuals planted there to attract pollinators.

I see foragers wandering about collecting blackberries and scapes, watching bunnies run through the brambles to get away from dog-walkers, spotting deer tracks and bed-down locations on their hike.

I see friends and families and the entire community gathered around a bonfire, sharing drinks and laughs together and healing their souls from the damage of the online world.

I can visualize a small pavilion where local musicians can set up small concert events - local school orchestras and bands collecting donations for new instruments and uniforms - or an unplugged garage band selling their CDs.

I see a circle of canopies with local artists and crafters selling acrylic pours, handmade soaps, crocheted baby clothes, metal art, and woodwork next to tents where local organizations that promote education, conservation, and liberty teach others about their efforts and recruit volunteers.

I see the catch-basin finally filled with water so that we can truly call it a pond surrounded with beautiful wildflowers, lilies, and irises, with a small off-grid cabin near its northern shore. A family has rented it for the weekend. They can wake their children at sunrise to show them the deer that came for their morning drink then get them ready for a day of swimming and fishing and paddle-boating.

I picture a farmer's market stand near the road where people can come to buy locally grown organic food from our gardens and then stay a while to take a leisurely walk on a sunny Sunday afternoon.

I see all these things whenever I go to "the farm" and I am amazed by the work my husband has done to take us closer to the days when my dreams become reality.

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