Five Years

A reader just reminded me that I have been posting on this journal for five years. My first entry was in July of 2005. He was thrilled to find he has five years of my farm adventures to read. I was surprised and humbled to hear this. When I sit down to write I don't think of anyone reading it. I can't imagine anyone would be interested. Why would anyone leave a tenured position at a fancy New Jersey high school to live in Northern Appalachia? When I came up here with my sheep, and "dropped out" so to speak, my entries were more of a "please don't forget about me" effort. My kids are all over the place and could check in on their mother whenever they could turn on a computer. The other motivation came from my sense of history. I really like reading about personal stories of courage and heroism. Living in a little trailer, basically a tin can, over an upstate New York winter, with no wood stove to huddle next to, is either heroic or insane. I did my master's thesis in history on native American captivity narratives, all about people, mainly women, who were taken by natives and kept captive. Some escaped or were rescued and wrote their narratives. They are riveting. Not that my experiences come anywhere near theirs, but I felt I was a story in the making. I'm not ready to read those past entries. They will upset me I'm sure, and bring up things I want to forget. Like waking up with my hair frozen to the side of the trailer, or going to work dirty because the hoses froze. I could hold my arms out and touch the sides of the trailer. One end fell off the blocks and I felt like a stewardess, walking uphill, then down, all 14 feet of it. I would come home from work - I wanted to live off the land but Matt didn't agree - and the little box would be rocking back and forth from my dogs rioting at the sound of my truck. Too many of my plans didn't work out, but it's not for lack of trying. I have a lot of anger to deal with but I'm working on it. Today the sun is shining, I have lots of hot, running water, a bath tub to soak my weary bones in, and propane to cook with. This computer is working, my old sewing machine is running and Direct TV is giving me all the latest news and good movies. I finally got another Robin wheel, purchased from a friend who was desperate for money to pay for her cancer treatments. I had to sell mine to pay for hay during one of those awful winters. The hillside is covered with sheep and my dogs are happy. I have a job to go back to in September and show season is coming. People will buy my wool, soap, creme and knitting bags and the farm will survive another year. I don't know how long I can keep it going but I'm doing what I want to do right now. Life is good. Thank you, Anonymous Reader, for reminding me how far I've come.