Ever since moving to the country, spring has become a marked time in my life. I can still remember being surprised by the woodpecker who thought our wood gutters were a suitable place to peck. I’d slide open the old, cloudy window that faced the pond and yell, “Go on, Woody!” It wouldn’t be too long after it would return, and I’d run back to the window again.
In that same window sat a small wooden box divided into thirds, and in each spot was a metal cup filled with an herb plant. Having just moved to the farmhouse; there was no time for a garden that year. But that small herb garden produced more than enough for us that spring and summer, making for some memorable taco nights and margherita pizzas. Speaking of food, I have a very fond memory of gathering around the table that spring.
One late night in the winter, my husband and I were outside working in the snow trying to prepare for the satellite company to come the next day. At one point I didn’t need to help, and I wandered to the mailbox to see if by chance we had any mail. Sure enough, there was mail—the best kind of mail! It was an envelope with our address handwritten on the front. I hurried across the snowy road in my muck boots and ran up the drive to my husband. I opened the letter to find it was from a past steward of the homestead. Nat and his family lived in the homestead in the late seventies and early eighties. He shared his email address, and we became email pen pals overnight.
After many emails and memories exchanged, my new pen pal asked if he and his wife, along with their adult daughter and son-in-law, could visit the homestead. Nat and his wife would be traveling from Maine, and his daughter and her husband would be coming from Cleveland. At this point, we had only been living in the homestead for two months, and while we thought it was great, I found pause as to why anyone would want to come back and visit nearly forty years later.
As we got closer to welcoming the family back home, I was feeling excited and a tad bit nervous. I was excited to learn from them and hear stories of their cherished memories of the farm. But I was also nervous, like anyone would be—you know, hoping they would like what we had done with the place in the short time here. Which, looking back, really wasn’t much! I was hopeful they would still find this home comfortable and familiar. But most of all, I feared it would leave them feeling sad and disappointed.
I still remember the day they pulled up the drive. We had never seen one another before—I was able to finally put a face to the emails we had exchanged. Knowing we had little ones, they brought everything to make lunch. In our very small kitchen, we got busy preparing chicken salad. It was like we’d known each other forever. By the way they acted, it seemed as though the house was still very familiar to them. In a way, it was still home.
We gathered around the table that afternoon, getting to know one another. We instantly found common ground around the house and her fine details, quirks, and charm. Nat shared about all the projects he took on in addition to being a professor at the university. We were all comfortable in each other’s presence and by the end of their visit, they left feeling more like family to us.
There is something about putting a meal on the table with all hands-on deck. Chopping, tossing, and gathering items for the table made us come together in a way I never had anticipated. It was genuine, happy, and fun. It is a meal I’ll never forget.
It has been eight years since we experienced our first spring out here in the middle (of nowhere). It is a year that marked the beginning of remembering the seasons in a way I had never done before. It was such a special time that I still buy the same candle that I had lit that spring in the house (Kroger better never discontinue it!). And when it’s lit, the house fills with those memories and every memory of spring that has followed.
I hope this spring brings back memories that make you feel fulfilled, inspired, loved, and hopeful for the year ahead. I hope you are mindful this season, both for yourself and your family. Make choices that lead to lasting memories. These memories will greet you each spring for many years to come.
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I am still a subscriber to your podcasts. Your discussions are timely and thought-provoking. ☕️
Hi, Cheryl! Thank you for subscribing! It’s great to have you part of the middle!