Learn to pause … or nothing worthwhile will catch up with you. -Doug King

I’ve needed to post for some long time now. But thoughts and time were often fleeting. Sometimes frozen. Held captive.

Winter was long. And hard. And colder for longer than I ever remember. I hate cold – cold accompanied by prolonged dank, dark days with little sun. I withdrew further into a dormant state than I cared to go. And it has taken awhile to awaken.

In the beginning of the end of winter, toward the first of March, the old house donned a new Spring dress and had her picture made. She was featured in the April/May issue of Mud & Magnolias magazine. The issue spoke of “home”… and we were honored to have our story included therein.

Mud&Mag
With April, (my limbs and mind) began to thaw. The world turned green again. Finally. It seemed a long time coming. Like a friend that had been absent for an extended period, but welcomed at the first glimpse. Recognized. And almost in a blink of an eye, birds began to sing. Again the Whippoorwill called at night. Flowers bloomed. The clash of cold and warm caused storms. Gardens were set to grow over the warm months ahead. The earth was again filled with a flurry of activity, having purpose.

Baby girl and her hubby, along with our new grand-baby daughter (born in February) came for an extended visit. The Farmhouse hosted a Sip & See and an Easter gathering of family. The old house then threw open her doors and welcomed the branches of the Will & Mae Page Family Tree. What a joy to have family grace the old house.

Porch Sittin'

Porch Sittin’

DSCN2944

Page Family Reunion

And, our labors resumed on the old house. The last set of windows are in the final stages of completion. More recently, as in the last few days, the exterior began to get a facelift. Much primer and paint is being applied to spruce up the old country cottage.

You see, there is soon to be a small, private wedding at the old homeplace. Eldest and her beau are to be wed on the front lawn. When the decision was made to hold their ceremony at The Farmhouse, I grew teary-eyed. My grandmother would be awed by the simple improvements to the old house and of the many fine folk who have paid a visit to old homestead. And now a wedding! She’d near be beside herself.

And so it is with the changing of Seasons, as winter becomes spring, a hiatus births a flurry of activity. I much prefer this more active season. A time where there is proof in a productive state of being.

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