I don’t know how I have come to be so blessed. If you’ve been keeping up with my blog or Facebook posts, you know I spent two weeks in Tanzania, Africa, a gift from my amazing mother-in-law. And today, I am in upstate New York at Tara Smith’s farm. Like Tanzania, the nights and mornings are cool, and that alone is reason to leave South Louisiana in the mid-summer. Unlike Tanzania, this place is lush and hilly and green.
On the farm, I can breathe slowly. I feel an energy for just being present. Tara is a perfect hostess. She ran down the hill from her writing spot five minutes ago because I asked for a lap blanket. Our dinner was fresh and delicious beginning with Caprese salad and ending with sliced watermelon. This morning, blueberry pancakes, my favorite.
I was trying to remember how I got here. Not in a geographical sense, but when did I meet and become so attached to these friends? I am here with Tara, Julianne, and Kimberley. (They are each writing a post today about our time together.) The fact is I can trace each friend back to this very space, my blog. We met through a commitment to writing and sharing our lives with each other. Connections happen here that I do not plan or predict or that I even realize are happening until a day like today.
This is Tara’s house on the farm. It is as lovely and charming on the inside as you can see from the outside. I am back in time to a place of stillness and grace.
This is Sophie. Every farm needs a dog like Sophie, keeping watch and providing comfort.
The four of us are taking a break from talking to write our separate slices. Sharing our slices of life is what brought us all here to be present with each other, to make space for writing, and to enjoy the abundance of life. I am so grateful for Tara’s generosity, for this community of writers, and for this amazing gift of nature. I can believe the world is good. I can feel hope. I can be me.
rising over the hills