"A dream can be nurtured over years and years and then flourish rapidly. . . .Be patient. It will happen for you. Sooner or later, life will get weary of beating on you and holding the door shut on you, and then let you in and throw you a real party!"
My first memory of true self occured in a stable in Oglebay Park, Wheeling, West Virginia. The horses (blacks, bays and one pure white), the smells (fresh hay, mashed oats, moutain air...even mucked out stalls), the "belonging here" moment of understanding. I felt riveted in place. Solid there. I was 10 years old.
Life, college, marriage, babies, love, loss and all in between did not in the least keep this PLACE from my heart. It was there and I would find it.
35 Years later. I am here. Rose Hill Farm. A very small farm in the mid-west. At last.
Taking those I love with me in hopes to share with them all that is dear, quiet and true about life together on one very small farm in the mid-west.
It smells the same.
It smells, to me, like heaven.