Tubing, hackey sack, sangria, rivers, communes, FARM

I feel a little sheepish for not having written yet, but believe me when I tell you that the farm has been oozing out of my every pore (figuratively - heh heh). Frankly, I haven't written because I feel totally slack-jawed speechlessly overwhelmed. Every time I think about this journey I feel grateful. I can't believe that Chris, Becca and Jay are all so on board with the idea. I feel love, gratitude, and eternal joy when I realize I have a husband who includes high on his list of priorities "a home where Charis can look out the window and see her horses." What a gift.

Bex pretty much summed up our time on the river last weekend, but I have to add that the hippies we encountered were (though admittedly a bit loopy) looking at our transition like a completely inevitable, do-able reality, not some crazy, pie-in-the-sky dream. That felt good. It was also helpful to realize that not all rural America is Bush country. Especially this pocket of rural Wisconsin, where we would call home. We're finding more visionary types.

I have to tell you that this farm is ripe with possibility. Everywhere I look, I can see our future there, including friends and family to bust out the seams. I can see my spotted horse grazing in the lush meadow, and I can see the seeds of our family of four here sprouting together. I can even see us showing movies on the barn wall.

This has been and will continue to be a great adventure. I hope anyone reading this is ready to share in it.

Peace.