This image above, it’s what I see from the recliner where I work each day while Milo naps. I look out over our bed from my grandmother’s auto-lift chair and see the branches of that walnut, the white roof of our barn, and the woods beyond.
It’s a simple view, not flashy except when our friend the pileated woodpecker dances by, his red cap shining. But I love this view. I love the gentle shift of light on the walnut bark, the way the white roof shimmers back even the grayest sky, the dance of the trees beyond as the wind invisibles past.
This, also, is the place where I can go deep and focus in these days of constant motion and tiny hands. A glance at the monitor to see that Milo is comfortable and resting well, and I’m diving in to words – mine, clients’, the books that continue to accrue on the trunk beside my chair.
Each morning, after Milo goes to sleep, I settle into this space. I almost don’t think about coming here anymore – it’s that much a part of my day. I pick up my computer or read some pages, and between I look out at this view, steady, true.
Sometimes, our culture pushes us to do more. Travel. Attend. Visit. Experience. I love all those things, but I am only able to love them because here – on this 15 acres, in this 215-year-old farmhouse, from this gift of a chair – I get to see the same thing. The branches, the roof, the dancing trunks beyond . . . they ground me even as they soar.
It’s not a view I’d trade for the world. Not for a whole world of experience. Here, now, this is enough.
Just decided, we’ll be having a BIG yard sale (in the barn, so I guess it’s a barn sale) on April 27 from 8am until . . . If you’d like to come set up a table, we welcome you to join us. Just message through the comments here, and we’ll get you all the details. Hope you can come to sell or to shop.