Every Monday we try to take a walk over to the farm to visit Dad and ride some tractors. After such a cold, wet and rainy winter it feels SO GOOD to be outside. The last few days of sun and clear skies have been so refreshing. Especially around that golden hour in the afternoon. Oh man, does a pink sky and clear views of a snowy Mt. Hood do wonders for the soul. The view out here never ceases to make me pause for moment to appreciate it’s beauty.
Life on the Farm lately has been quiet. Emmett and I have been logging a lot of hours at home. He’s all about developing those gross motor skills right now, climbing up and down the stairs, on and off the furniture and taking a few cautious steps here and there. I swear he’s gained five pounds and at least two inches just in the last couple of weeks, and all of our 18 month clothes are starting to fit a bit snugly. I can’t bear the thought of him wearing anything with 2T on the tag though. Say it ain’t so! This week he’s pretty clearly saying “car, hat, boom, Bambi” (a favorite stuffed animal) and much to my Mom’s delight, “Gram.” He may not be ahead of the game in the walking department, but he is one seriously verbal little dude, and I can’t wait til I can understand everything he’s saying.
We accidentally attended our first story time at the library last week, and much to my chagrin, Emmett absolutely loved it. We’d run quickly into the library to pick up some books we had on hold and as I was checking out, I noticed a crowd of kids pouring into the front room. Emmett seemed to notice too and was pointing and craning his neck to see where everyone was going. I grabbed our stack of books off the counter, thanked the librarian, put my head down and had every intention of heading straight to the car. But halfway there, I was overcome with some mixture of guilt and determination, and before I could change my mind, turned around and swung open the door to story time. Despite having left the house without looking in the mirror, changing out of my pajamas or brushing my teeth, I decided to cast my pride aside and join the semi-circle of parents and kiddos sitting cross legged around the room.
I have to say, story time was weird. I mean, it’s a bunch of people in a room singing silly songs and blowing bubbles and waving scarves while the poor librarian tries to maintain some level of organized chaos. It’s definitely not my ideal social situation, that’s for sure. Although maybe I would have felt better had I brushed my teeth that morning.
I was pretty curious to see what Emmett would think. But after a few minutes of timidity, he was off making the rounds, crawling as fast as he could and smiling at everyone he saw. He’d take off on a tour of the room, make a loop and come barreling back into my lap, the goofiest grin on his face. No one seemed to care that he was still in his jams and I looked like a walking advertisement for What Not to Wear. I can’t promise I’ll be a weekly story time attendee, but it’s nice to have the first one under my belt at least. Maybe someday we’ll brave a trip to the park. Maybe.
Taylor has been spending a lot of time in the shop at the farm, regularly coming home smelling like motor oil and the wet, dusty concrete floor. He’s currently taking apart their sprayer to do some maintenance on it before the spring spraying season begins, and just a couple weeks ago, did a whole bunch of work on the farm’s bulldozer. I’m so impressed by all the technical, mechanical, electrical (you name it) skills he has developed in just a few short years. Emmett is also thoroughly impressed by Dad’s work, and starts his tractor noises as soon as the farm is within sight.
Monday afternoon, as I watched them ride around on the four-wheeler and front-loading tractor, madly snapping photos as they went, I couldn’t help but think to myself how lucky we are. How lucky we are to get to live this sweet, simple life of ours. Surrounded by natural beauty. Almost entirely focused on the tasks of growing food and raising a family. Able to raise our sweet kiddo in a world where there will never be a shortage of tractors to ride or machines to fix. Sunsets to see or ripe berries to pluck right off the bush. Where he will grow up surrounded by people who will show him the ropes, on the farm and in life, and love and support him for whoever he decides to be. Currently, a tiny dude in tiny Carhartts, enthusiastically driving every machine in the shed.
Needless to say, I’m enjoying this sweet season. It’s going way too fast, of course, life just has a way of doing that. Nevertheless, it feels so good to watch everything come alive again. Watch the fields around us start to green up and grow, well fed and nourished by all of our winter rain. Part of me always feels a little anxious as spring comes along, knowing that a busy season looms ahead in the not-so-distant future. But for now, while I still have some time, I’m soaking in our slow afternoons, meandering walks, our time riding tractors and hopefully a few family adventures before we hear the siren song of summer and face the rush of ripening berries.