Deep and Crisp and Even...

We had snow here on Christmas, and the day after that, and all night last night.  In fact it was still snowing this morning, but it has now finally stopped. We measured 9 inches total.  The sun is out now and the whiteness of it is dazzling.

Christmas Week


The shopping is done, the presents are wrapped. This week is about cooking the foods that have become traditional in our family, enjoying the season together and taking time to reflect on the real significance of the holiday. I thought I'd share a few photos.

Our Tree

The Mantel is Dressed in a Woodland Theme this year

My Santa Collection

A December Sunset from our Porch

Season's Greetings From

Pleasant Places Farm

Gloria Dei Y'all
I think I will spend today unashamedly in my pajamas.  Around noon I have to get ready to go out into the real world, but until then, I am here by my fire and my Christmas tree trying to think great thoughts and trying not to see that the floor needs vacuuming.
In truth, I am not much of a great thought thinker. I have friends who are and their blogs sort of make me envious.  But no, while I occasionally have flashes of profundity, I am mostly a do-er.  My thoughts tend to run more toward the everyday-- how to keep the goats in the fence or stretch a food budget.  And the only thing that is profound about me today is the profound sense of gratitude to God that I feel sitting here warm and dry by the fire, my every need met, my family intact, my land stretching out below me.
Today started out under a sheet of ice but a relatively warm rain is finally melting the frozen stuff away and Pleasant Places is wrapped in a thick, foggy blanket.  Another few months, weeks even, of this and I may be planning a trip to the Keys, but for now it is pleasant to sit and listen to the rain hit the metal roof of the back porch, the slightly damp logs hiss in the fireplace and the clock tick in the back room. 
I was thinking last night about the fact that probably few if any read this blog.  Pretty sure even my own mom and my husband don't read it.  But I decided that was OK.  Some things are worth doing whether anyone else takes notice or not.  I have tried to live by that principle, so I will write by it as well.  Some things you do for yourself and because God grants you the ability to do it.  You do it because it expresses who you are and that brings glory to Him as your creator.
At various times in my past I have tried patterning myself after those I admire.  And I have tried working to please others and live up their expectations. Mostly, it doesn't work and  even when I do seem to pull it off, it leaves me exhausted.  Thankfully, in recent years  I have begun to receive from the Lord the exquisite grace to just be myself.  I serve Him best and others best by just being my best self.  That's pretty freeing.

Day 3...
One snow day is awesome.  It's unplanned, a gift.  I feel perfectly justified in spending it however I choose.  Two days, well, I start looking around for work to do.  Yesterday I made up the school menus for January, cleaned a bathroom, wrapped up some more presents, stacked in some more firewood...it was productive.  But day 3, while not exactly unwelcome, begins to feel a little confining.  I literally can't get out because my husband has to take the four wheel drive truck to get to his job which for some reason never takes a snow day.  So I plot a course to make the most of this third day: write blog, an hour or so of yoga (I used the first two snow days as an excuse to skip the exercise and I am beginning to feel it), bake some bread, more firewood...well, we'll see how that all goes.
Yesterday was one of those beautiful, frigidly crystalline days.  The sky was as clear and blue as I have seen it.  And while it wasn't warm, I think it got up to freezing only very briefly, it wasn't so windy.  The power of the sun interests me on such days.  It marks it's territory on every southern facing slope, scratching off the snow.  I walked down to the southern end of the pasture to check and make sure our spring wasn't freezing over , and I could feel the temperature rise. 
The temperatures quickly fell back into the teens yesterday evening though and very little of the snow actually melted.  DH says the secondary roads are still quite icy and our neighbor slid off of our road twice yesterday evening trying to get up it.  So I do understand why there is no school yet again today.
Today, the sky is gray and heavy looking again as we brace for another round of weather; freezing rain is predicted this time. If that hits then we may be out again tomorrow, and at that point I say, why bother?  Christmas vacation starts Friday afternoon.
I don't see Charlie Cat this morning.  Yesterday he was outside the door when I got up waiting to take his place beside the fire I had just built.  I tried to keep the cats in on Monday night when it was coldest and windiest, but they weren't cooperative at all and had to be put out.  I left the shed open for them and I think L.B. has been sleeping in there but not Charlie.  Charlie probably went back down to the barn to sleep in the hay, but I would feel better if I saw him and knew he was safe.
The horses are a lot more active since the addition of Domingo.  They were up here at the top of the pasture this morning.  How beautiful they look against the snow.  They seem to be enjoying the cold weather.
Looks like the fire needs feeding and I should get a move on "the plan" for today.

First Snow!

It started snowing yesterday morning and by afternoon was beginning to accumulate. By nightfall, the wind was howling and driving the snow against the house like a real blizzard. We awoke this morning to about five inches of the white stuff, the powdery, squeaky kind. It is still snowing now , off and on.

I got up the courage to suit up and head to the barn around 11, worried about the animals in the cold. The constant battle in these temps is keeping water available. The horses have a de-icer in their bucket, but the chickens, mostly huddled in their house, were out of water. I refilled, gathered the eggs and quickly made my way up the hill in the driving snow.

Charlie, one of the cats, insisted that the barn was not warm enough and accompanied me up the hill. He whined all the way, belly dragging the snow. I guess I'd whine too.

I know five inches of snow to a lot of folks is nothing, but here in the south snow is always an event. And this much in December is unheard of. Schools are closed today and they may well be tomorrow. It's not that we don't know how to drive in it, it's that we choose not to. Much nicer to declare an impromptu holiday and sit around the fire drinking coffee and catching up on pleasant tasks. There's a sort of license that goes with snow days to do things normally frowned upon. Right now I am sitting around in furry house booties and purple long johns wondering if I could pass them off as leggings should anyone be brave enough to venture up the driveway. And I am thinking how very many simple blessings I enjoy--a warm house and clothes, a crackling fire, a sparkling Christmas tree and a snow-covered mountain farm.

Autumn Egg Hunt



The pullets I bought in mid-April, around the time of my last post (for shame), should be laying... I say should because they are not, or at least not where I can find the eggs. Oh, one or two of them is dropping me a token egg in the nest every couple of days, but I have 30 plus hens, for heaven's sake, I should be rolling in eggs.


Where are they laying? I have looked all over the wooded areas they frequent, climbed high up on the hay in the barn, checked every likely spot. Nothin'. Supposedly, hens like to lay in nests where there are already eggs. I don't know who asked the hens about this, but I thought it was worth a try. I put ceramic eggs in the nests that look so much like the real thing I had to mark them so I wouldn't pick them up by mistake. I think the only one being fooled here is me.


Meanwhile, these girls are eating me out of house and home.


Here are a couple of the pics of the slackers,







This one below I believe is a Hamburg. Isn't she pretty? Now if only she'd lay an egg.

A cold rain is falling on Pleasant Places, and I am trying to remember which poet it was that wrote "April is the cruelest month..." I should know that. After all, I was an English major, but that was years ago. Anyway, there is a frost warning tonight and I fear for my tomatoes. Surely it won't be cold enough to hurt the tiny baby peaches. I am so looking forward to those peaches.
Cold rain or no, I took a few minutes to walk through the woods today. "Checking the fence" I told myself, which is absolutely unnecessary as there is nothing in the pasture at the moment that requires a fence. Dutifully, I removed sticks and pulled a few encroaching vines, but mostly I looked at the wealth of wildflowers that grow on our wooded slopes: mayapple, solomons seal-real and false, many kinds of trillium, toadshade-which is blooming now, ladyslipper (I think, but it isn't blooming yet), some kind of lily with strappy foliage. and on down into the fields I find violets, buttercups, wild strawberry and barren strawberry and more. All poised to start the spring show...if only this cold rain will let up and the sun will come out again.
Sunday we finished fixing the barn so the chickens can't get in and roost in the rafters. They make such a mess below and they do have their own house after all. The night we finished I stayed down there awhile and watched some of them determinedly inspect every square inch of our work trying to find a weak spot. My persistence gave out before theirs and I went to the house before they went to roost. Today when I went down two hens were in there. One sat on a bale of hay where they like to lay and one perched on the top of the stall. I ran them out and walked around yet again looking for their way in. I plugged a few places under walls, and then took my fence walk and when I got back...there she was again, sitting smugly on her nest. I think that hens are a great deal more intelligent than we have been lead to believe.

Spring Break...
And the gardening season has started in earnest. Mother Nature is apologizing for that long, cold winter with one of those all-at-once, exuberant springs. It feels like if I blink I miss something blooming or leafing or out. Almost all the trees have tiny, bright green leaves now, and in the garden the lettuce and spinach has pretty much just jumped out of the ground this week. We even ate a little of it and some radishes and arugula this week. Tastes like spring. I am so convinced it is really and truly spring that I went ahead and put out the tomatoes and peppers and planted the corn and beans.
But I almost forgot the biggest news...the chicks arrived Monday. Twenty six little peeps. Layers in waiting. I picked them up at the Post Office Monday morning. They spent the first few days inside in a box, but today I put them out in the brooder in the garden. They seemed happy with the arrangement, though it is hard to regulate the temperature. On warm sunny days like today it can get too hot in there and I spent a lot of today trying out various propping and shading arrangements.

Ah, spring...we hope. After roaring in with snow and frigid temps we are finally seeing the softer side of March. Of course, early spring is nothing if not treacherous, promising so much one day and then retreating back into winter again.
But today felt like spring. Yes, it was cloudy and rainy, but it wasn't cold. A few days ago I planted squares of lettuce, spinach, chard and carrots in the raised beds. This afternoon I put in a few new strawberries (tristar, everbearing) and some Martha Washington asparagus. I have to say the asparagus crowns really didn't look alive and I will surprised if they sprout, but I have been surprised by dormant plants before. I bought the asparagus and strawberries in a box along with onion sets and two types of potatoes at Lowes. It was a good deal, if they make it. I also started some peppers and basil indoors today. I would have started tomatoes but could only find seed for so such common varieties that i will do just as well to buy the plants in another month or so.
While I planted I heard peepers and other frogs down at the spring. A good sign. The crocus are all blooming wonderfully, all colors now and the buds on the daffodils are fat and ready to burst open if the mild weather continues. As I worked and walked around this afternoon I got that familiar "so much to do" feeling that always hits me in the spring. I know I need to prioritize because there is simply no getting it all done.

More Snow...
Fell on Pleasant Places this weekend. It started Friday afternoon--huge, wet flakes that covered quickly and hung on every twig. It was beautiful. I have not seen it snow like that in many years. We got about four inches before it turned into a wintry mix that night, into rain most of Saturday and then back to flurries yesterday around dusk.
We still have some snow around and it is colder today, but the sun just popped through. When I stand in it I can feel that it's intensity is gaining ground as the days grow longer. And there are other harbingers of spring. The chickens have begun to give us a few eggs every day and seem to be generally more active. Bulb foliage is peaking up through the snow and wet mulch in my flower beds and the birds are much more vocal and active as well. We are seeing more possums out and about--unfortunately we know this because of their unsuccessful attempts at road crossing. Soon we may see ( or smell) skunks, later peepers, finally hoot owls. That is the rhythm of the progressing season. But, in the meantime, tomorrow is only February 1. We will have more raw, cold weather. Even in the midst of spring, winter will attempt several last stands. Eventually, spring and warmth will win. I look forward to that season, but right now I plan to enjoy this one with a cup of hot coffee beside a fire.

Barn Cleaning

Yesterday was clear and much warmer than it has been. It is January but there was something spring-like in the day. I wanted to be outside, so after work I ditched the gym and decided I would get my excercise by cleaning out the barn and hen house.
It was about 3:00 and some of the sheltered hollow where the barn lies was already in shade. A few of the chickens had gone to roost already, but they came down when I filled the feeders and scattered the salad scraps I had for them.
Over the last couple of months, my chickens have largely abandoned the hen house in favor of the barn rafters. Maybe they feel safer there. I don't know. But what I do know is that it makes an awful mess on things below and needs to be stopped. I plotted how to achieve that while I went about my work.
First the barn. I raked up droppings under their favorite roosting spots and shoveled it out onto the pasture. That part was fairly easy. Then I decided I would tackle the hen house. Our hen house has a trap door in the back that allows me to shovel out the droppings underneath their roost. It has, however, a design flaw that necessitates the removing of a board in order to lift the door to a workable height. I propped my rake and shovel against the house and went in search for the right tool for the right job--a hammer.
The right tool was no where around the barn, however. I knew there was one at the house, but that was several hundred feet up a steep hill that I had no intention of climbing twice so I decided I would make do with whatever presented itself. That happened to be a large set of channel locks. As it turns out, you can remove nails with those, but I can't recommend it. Anyway, I removed the board, raised the hatch and shoveled out the dry droppings.
Next the inside of the coop had to be tackled. I raked it out and decided to put in fresh bedding.
We had two bags of pine shavings that had been in the barn for months unopened. Now I distinctly remember that before I could pick up said bales and move them around, but when I went to pick the first one up, it was really more than I could do so I went to fetch the wheelbarrow. Even getting the bale up on the wheelbarrow was a challenge. Either the shavings had gotten damp and heavy or I had lost a considerable amount of muscle over the last few months. I hope it was the first. I did manage to wrangle the bale onto the wheelbarrow and started dragging it toward the coop. Notice I said dragging. At first I thought the wheelbarrow tire was just low, but no, it was totally flat and coming off the rim. So, the wheelbarrow was better than nothing, but not much. It took both bales to rebed the coop so I had to repeat the process, but it was finally done. I lowered the hatch and beat the board back in place with the wrong tool, but the job was finished and fairly well too.
The chickens, seeing that the show was over, hopped up to their roosts in the rafters, continuing to shun the now newly cleaned hen house. Oh well.

Today started out dreary with a few more snow flurries. This evening is clear, and I do think it got above freezing today finally, but it is still cold. BUT something has changed...this week the days got long enough to trigger a few of our hardy hens to start laying. Egg laying is very day-length sensitive and though it still feels like winter to me, the hens would like everyone to know that the shortest days of winter are now over and spring can't be all that far behind. I am getting only 3-4 a day right now. At least two of the eggs everyday have been blue/green so that means some of the arcaunas are laying. In fact they may all be arcauna eggs as I have noticed that they seem to start earlier (but they also quit sooner). I had eggs for breakfast this morning. Can't tell you how much better they are than any store egg we have found. Yum.

"But when the fulness of time came, God sent forth His Son..." Galatians 4:4

Since Christmas I have been mulling over this phrase, "the fulness of time".   This verse is oft quoted in Christmas sermons and cards, so I guess it is no surprise that it was on my mind.  I was thinking about how God had His redemptive plan orchestrated from the beginning.  I can imagine the heavenly host anxiously awaiting the day of Christ's birth the way children wait for Christmas.  "How many more days is it?"  And then, finally, the time was perfect.   Jesus was "born of a woman, under the law" at the precise, preappointed time.  Not too early.  Not a moment too late.  Hmm.

The term "Fulness of time" is used only once, that I can find, in all of the Bible, but the word "fulness"  is used several.  It carries the connotation of completeness, doneness, ripeness.  As a baker of homemade bread, I think of it like this:  when I put my bread in the oven to bake, there is inevitably a precise moment when it is perfectly done.  A minute longer and it is too brown.  A few minutes shy and it is doughy inside.  That illustration helps me think about what "in the fulness of time" means.

Then as we moved on into the new year, naturally "time" was on my mind again.  Another year has passed. Another cycle completed.  We march into a new year headed for ...who knows?  Well, thankfully, God knows.  He has a plan for me that involves same perfect timing that orchestrated the birth of Jesus.  In the fulness of time He will send answers, meet my needs, provide direction. 

My problem is that I am not very patient.  I want to move forward according to my own timing.  God's sense of timing is so different that mine.   Sometimes it's downright scary in its "last minuteness".  Sometimes He totally and completely seems to ignore my real deadlines.  But here is what I need to remember.  He does everything at just the right moment.  In the fulness of time.  I am too quick to forget that.   In my self-centeredness I tend to think it is my agenda, my sense of timing that counts.   How wrong could I be?  I mean, sometimes I don't even bake my bread to the exact "fulness of time" perfection.  Do I really think I can orchestrate the miriad details of  my life?  Lord, save me from my arrogance and help me live 2010 resting in the fact that you are in control and that you will send what I need precisely when I need it.

Snow Tracking

The snow isn't very deep, but it is the powdery kind that sort of squeaks and crunches underfoot. When it snows, I like to look for animal tracks on my way down to the barn. Yesterday I saw that a deer, probably our old friend Doa or her children, had crossed our yard and hill pasture. I saw our dog Lance's tracks as well. His are distinct from other dogs' because they are bigger than most and because you can see where his bushy tail drags the snow a little. This morning I saw that a rabbit had hopped all the way up the road through the pasture. Now why would he do that? Of course there are also many bird tracks and around the barn, chicken tracks.

New Year's Resurrection

January is a time of new beginnings-- despite the fact that the growing cycle to which I am anchored begins not in January but in spring. As I write, the ground is frozen hard and snow covered, but to me the deep winter is an incubation period. A time to plan and dream, a time when growth is unseen, like a baby in the womb or a seed under ground, but no less real and important.

All that to say that I have decided to pick up this blog again and try, once more, to record the happenings and my reflections on Pleasant Places Farm.

A number of factors have kept me away from the blog. During the last couple of years I have needed to take a break from concentrating on the farm. My work at The Learning Center! and family concerns have claimed the bulk of my attention. My daughter's interest in horses, which we wanted to support, meant that our hillside pasture and bottomland were given over to their feeding and excercise needs for awhile. After the first push to fence and build outbuildings, my husband needed a well-deserved rest. It is very difficult to run a farm and work a full time job, though most farmers do it. It is even more difficult to build a farm from scratch in your "free time".

We saw that, with both of us employed off farm and our daughter a full time student, we needed to rethink or farming choices. The dairy goats went first, because as cute as they are and as delicious as the milk was, dairying is a full time endeavor--every day, twice a day. Way too confining for us. Now, with our daughter, about
( I think) to leave the nest, the horses have also moved on. We loved them too, but they are a very needy group on the whole, and we never seemed to be able to give them the hours of attention they deserved.

So in the winnowing out process some things have gone, but others have stayed. We have in the last couple of growing seasons constructed a small raised bed garden that has been very successful. We will continue to expand that as well as add more fruit trees and berries. The chickens have stayed and will stay, being easy care critters who earn their keep.

We are considering some additions to our farm. We have learned that to fit our growing system, our land and our lifestyle, whatever is added needs to be short term, easy care and in some way profitable. Not that they all have to turn a monetary gain, but they must make a positive contribution to the farm system. That means either they or their product can be sold at profit, they add valuable manure to the soil, they eat bugs, scare away predators, they till soil to prepare it for reseeding, they control weeds...you get the picture. No freeloaders. We are thinking of maybe getting some goats in the spring, meat goats this time, for weed control, carrying them to fall and then selling them or having them butchered. I am also considering more chickens and perhaps a couple of turkeys. The chickens would be for eggs and perhaps I may raise a few extra heritage breed pullets for sale. The turkeys would be for own consumption. And, in the back of my mind, there is the idea of a pig. We have so much waste from school that it might be a good idea to get one in Fall and feed it on food scraps until about February or March. Then to the freezer he goes.

So while the snow flies, I have more than enough to do planning the garden and making decisions about livestock.

Enter His gates with thanksgiving,

And His courts with praise.

Give thanks to Him; Bless His name.

For the Lord is good;

His lovingkindness is everlasting,

And His faithfulness to all generations.

Psalm 11:4-5

I live in a community called "Ebenezer". It's a word from the Old Testament that means something like "thus far the Lord has helped me". I have always liked the name because it reminds me to look back and recall God's faithfulness not only to me but to previous generations of His people.  Because God's character is consistent, the fact that he has helped me "thus far"  is guarantee that He will continue to do so.  Today, on the day before Thanksgiving, I am considering how His everlasting faithfulness should elicit my thankfulness.

Time travel with me a minute back to the first Thanksgiving.  Funny grade school plays and beautiful artwork aside, the reality of that first Thanksgiving was somber.  The pilgrims arrived in Plymouth in September of 1620 after a 65 day voyage.  Many were already sick and weakened from the voyage.  They were too late to build adequate housing before facing the harsh New England winter.  If you were one of those fifty or so left standing at the end of your first year in the New Land,  then your thanksgiving, though no doubt sincere,  would have been mingled with tears.  You would have lost half of your companions to death, very likely you would have lost a spouse or a child. 

The harvest that first autumn had been exceptional.  They would have food the next winter and they had been blessed with friends (Sqauanto and his people) to help them.*  There was cause to celebrate and reasons to be thankful, but it was thankfulness in the midst of extreme hardship.  Winter was still going to be cold.  Their homeland and civilization was still across the ocean, the bodies of cherished loved ones were still going to lie in the crude cemetary.  In fact history does tell us that these brave Pilgrims continued to face hardship.  The harvests the next two years were much less bountiful. The second Thanksgiving Day, two years later, in fact, came on the heels of a drought-stricken spring and summer when little grew.

My observation is this: I think I tend to reserve my best gratitude to God for those times when I feel like I am  "out of the woods".   That shouldn't be.  I should take a lesson from the Pilgrims and be truly, heartily thankful for God's provision every step of the way.   I want to practice a thankfulness that trusts God's goodness  and faithfulness even in the midst of difficulties.  I also want to remember to be truly  thankful for the "basics" of life that I too often take for granted.  The pilgrims celebrated because they had food, shelter and friends.  I certainly am blessed with an abundance.

*The story of how God brought Squanto, an English speaking Native American, back to the piligrims at their greatest hour of need is a masterpiece of God's goodness and providence and well worth reading.  Click the link below and scroll down to "The Story of Squanto" for a quick synopsis from Chuck Colson.

http://www.colsoncenter.org/the-center/columns/colson-files

Saturday I sat on my front porch a little while and got the faintest touch of a suntan. That's not very remarkable unless you read the date of this posting and realize that last Saturday was November 7, and I don't live in Florida. We have had killing frost already, gardens have been put to bed, most leaves have fallen, and we're beginning to think about the holidays. Nevertheless, it turned beautifully warm and sunny Saturday so after a walk I took off my jacket, rolled up my pants' legs and cat napped in the sun on the front porch. Wonderful! And probably more so because it was such an unexpected treat.

We call those warm November days that sometimes, but not always, follow the first cold snap, Indian Summer. It's a reprieve from the cold and a second chance to get those things done outside that have been neglected: Cut back the raspberries, give the field one more mowing or stack in some more firewood, things we knew needed doing but, well, you know...

Indian Summer reminds me of one my favorite verses in the Bible, Jonah 3:1 : "And the word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time" The short, quirky little book of Jonah is, to my mind, one of the funniest, saddest and most "real" stories in the Old Testament. It's the story of a man called by God to preach repentance to Nineveh, and he runs away--not because he doubts God will save them, but because he believes He will. (There's some history there between Jonah and those Ninevites) So anyway, Jonah runs into a boat which runs into storm, and finally he gets fed to a fish. Jonah prays while he is in the fish--who wouldn't-- and so the Lord has the fish upchuck Jonah on the beach (I am not making this up). And then comes my verse, and every time I read it I can almost hear God just let out a big sigh. "Now the word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time saying.." and He repeats His instructions. This time Jonah goes, he preaches, they repent, revival breaks out.

So what is it that I love about this verse exactly? Just this. Jonah blew it big time. Not some "small" little "I forgot" kind of offence. I mean deliberate, in your face, running the opposite way disobedience. He literally ran away from God, or he tried to. And rather than just washing His hands of Jonah and going to get another prophet to preach to Nineveh, God chases down Jonah so He can give him another chance to obey. That is so God! And Jonah, well, unfortunately, he is so ME sometimes.

Indian Summer. A second chance to do the things you should have done before. I'm so glad my God is a God of second chances.

For we know that if the earthly tent which is our house is torn down, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.  For indeed, in this house we groan, longing to be clothed with our dwelling from heaven...and knowing that while we are at home in the body we are absent from the  Lord...we are of good courage, I say, and prefer rather to be absent from the body and at home with the Lord.  Therefore, also we have as our ambition, whether at home or absent, to be pleasing to Him.
2 Corinthians 5:1-9

Yesterday I went with my daughter to a cemetary just down the road from our home.  She was doing research for a project.  I went to keep her company, do some walking, and because, well, I kind of like cemetaries.  (My daughter says that's just creepy)   I appreciate the history so accessible in graveyards. With a little imagination it can be like reading a story in stone.  This man fought in Korea.  What would it have been like for a sheltered young man from these mountains to find himself  fighting a war on the other side of the world?  This family lost two little boys within a year of each other.  Diptheria? Influenza?   How did this mother survive such loss?  Did she lean on the Lord?  Did she grow bitter?    And how did this mountain boy here find himself serving in the Merchant Marines during WWII ?  Did he hear the call of the sea way up here in these hills?    Here is one where an elderly husband has preceded his wife. Her place beside him is empty still.  Is she lonely?  Ready to go on?  Does she come here to sit beside his grave?  I can only guess.
I look up and think about the fact that these same folks left other monuments to their lives as well.  Roads, creeks and farms in our valley still carry the same names etched here in the headstones.  And their descendants are still here too.  Legacy. 

My mind steps easily from speculation about their lives to introspection about my own.  I'm 46, an age that we very optimistically refer to as "midlife"   I have most likely already lived longer than I will continue live.  The invincibility of youth  is gone.  In the back of my mind I have a settled realization that it won't be so very long before I "join" this congregation on the hill.  The thought doesn't frighten or sadden me.  Not at all.  I know where I am going next, and I know it will be much better, much lovelier than even this beautiful high hill.

 No, my question is not at all about where I am going.  It's about what I will leave behind.  What will my legacy be?  I know what I want it to be.  When I die, I want to leave behind me people who know God more deeply and understand life better because they knew me.  I want to have loved unselfishly.  I want to have imparted wisdom.  I want to have served well.  I want to leave behind something much more than a headstone.   I want to leave a lifesong,  the legacy of a life lived to the glory of God.

What if I lived every day with that ambition in mind? 

Yeah, I do kind of like cemeteries.

When we first moved to our farm six years ago, one of my favorite things to do was to walk the property lines.  Though our acreage is not large, it is still more land than I have owned before.  As I walked up and down hills, crossed pasture and spring, I was exhilerated with the thought that it belonged to me.  I chose the name "Pleasant Places" for my farm.  Taken from Psalm 16:6, the name seemed to capture the gratitude I felt  at being allowed to live on and care for this piece of land.  "The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places; indeed, my heritage is beautiful to me."

Of course, those verses are really speaking of someone infintely more valuable than even the choicest piece of property.  Psalm 16:5 tells me that "The Lord is the portion of my inheritance and my cup."  If I can get excited about possessing a few acres of trees and rocks, how much more glorious to realize that I possess the Lord himself as my inheritance.  Everything I need lies within my own "property lines": His love, grace, forgiveness, hope, strength, direction, wisdom...everything.  My inheritance is sufficient because He is sufficient.

While, one day in one way or another, I will leave Pleasant Places Farm, I will never have to leave behind all that I possess in Jesus Christ.  That is my permament portion, my heritage. My inheritance is not dependent on lines on a map, not tied to earth or time.  Whether I live on a farm or in a mansion or in a box under a bridge, as a believer, I dwell in pleasant places because I dwell with Christ.

My home is Pleasant Places , literally at the moment, but figuratively no matter where the journey ends up taking me.  A little farther down in Psalm 16 David writes, "Thou wilt make known to me the path of life; In thy presence is fullness of joy; in Thy right hand are pleasures forever."   Pleasures forever.  What a promise!

I am not at all sure how I have completely skipped over most of the 2007 growing season and right on into the beginning of the 2008 season, but I have. I offer by way of excuse the devastating drought last summer and also some personal issues that required a lot of my attention and energy. The drought meant that the growing season was cut short even in my little square foot garden. We had lettuce in the spring but come the summer everything limped along rather miserably until I finally just gave up and went to the beach! Also it became necessary this past summer for us to disperse our herd of Nigerian Dwarf goats. They are greatly missed, but two do live right next door and come to visit...usually around feeding time. Abby the Arab X is still with us, but Ginger Pony, who turned out to be a BLM mustang, has completed her early training, under Elizabeth's skilled hand, and gone on to her next home with lots of kids and the attention. We do still have our flock of multi-colored heritage breed chickens which are providing plenty of free range eggs for us and our customers. Spring plans are to enlarge the square foot garden and build some better raised beds for it and of course there is the ever-constant cleaning of outbuildings, maintaining fences and the like. We do now at least have things on the farm to a point where no large projects loom and that is somewhat of a relief.