My Brother's Place

When I was a little girl and we would go to our farm in the mountains, I would go to the very top of our meadow and start running to the bottom. I would run so fast that it felt like my feet would go way out ahead of me so that I thought when I reached the bottom I would never stop.
I loved that feeling and I loved that place. I could fill this space with stories and memories similar to the one above, but I will not bore you with things that I remember.
I will however take the time to toast this place that I hold so closely to my heart.
My dad and his brothers sold our farm this week and now in a melancholy tone all we have left is our memories.

Have you ever seen a bluer sky?

One of my favorite pictures of my dad...looking out over the land

The old barn, that we played in

My last time there, I asked Dad to bring me the old stove but I think it was too heavy. Above the stove hung a copy of a poem called, My Brother's Place.

So here's to our farm, may it always be a place that we hold dear, where the sky is more blue, the earth is more green, and the air is more free of the hastiness of life.