goodbye…
hiding in the hollow tree that somehow still lives on, half-destroyed;
green truck rides through buzzing goldenrod and tangled berry brambles;
skipping up to Gram’s to get flour because we ran out… again;
sunsets leaking burning lava over the mountain ridges;
creaming corn days, warm cardboard boxes dripping with the smell of pizza for lunch;
treasure hunts for crystals by the side of the thorn-ringed pond;
building forts and holes and towers in a barn full of fuzzy cotton seeds;
climbing the hill to get fresh eggs, crossing the road to get fresh milk;
family gathered around a crackling bonfire by the creek overhung with mint;
the farm rolling out from under you at the top of the tallest hill;
art parties, tables laden with shared supplies and traded ideas;
walking under the majestic, white-boned sycamores under a clear blue sky;
church potlucks that are feasts, where we know each face at the tables;
the succulent sound of cows tearing off mouthfuls of grass in the pasture;
selling rusty metal parts and cow bones and broken bottles for pinecones at the island;
playing with friends in the grain bins, jumping off the ladder into the yellow corn;
capture-the-flag games and ATC trades after church;
finding litters of soft, tumbling barn kittens and watching them grow;
sledding down Gram’s hill with cousins and sipping hot chocolate afterward;
firefly-catching contests; flashing bits of flying gold captured in hands and jars;
club meetings: crooked stairs, dusty seats, shouts and laughter pounding the low rafters;
rambling nature walks all over the farm with friends;
eating picnic suppers on the flat roof outside our bedroom on a calm summer evening;
everyone gathered at the last chicken house, talking and laughing, relieved to be done…
goodbye.
_
new is a crackly word, an uncomfortable word –
it takes breaking in, like a fresh pair of shoes.
the old is familiar. it may be torn and falling to pieces, but it is love that made it so.
you know, don’t you?
when what we’re used to becomes what used to be,
the touch of change is sharp, its hold is slippery,
but oh, how can I bear to let go?
I know.
so,
goodbye, old farm, goodbye, old friends. goodbye, old life.
I’ll miss you.
I already do.
❤
***Allison***
The light was gorgeous. ♥
The boys went crazy with the fourwheeler – spinning around doing burn outs and driving through puddles and over tiny trees and stuff. -_- Boys, boys… *shakes head* XD Ah well, it is pretty fun to drive.
The fun thing about moving to a new farm is that we now have hundreds of acres to explore for the first time, and I LOVE it. The sun was out and it was such a lovely day for winter and we got to wander down paths we’d never been too… ahh, it was great. 🙂 *happy sigh* Walks like these are some of my favorite things!
I have no idea what kind of tree produces these strange flower thingies. 
A sturdy fallen tree over a creek is basically irresistible to young boys (and girls). 
Heh heh, see here? Maggie doesn’t mind wading. Her expression… XD 
Oh, funny story. I often randomly spot hawks when we drive somewhere or go on walks. I don’t know why I see them so much more than the rest of my family, but I do, and it’s gotten to be a sort of joke. I’m always like, “HAWK” when I see one, and Megan groans. XD She gets annoyed because I say, “It’s really strange how I always see hawks,” almost every time I see one. Well that’s what she says, but I don’t say it every time… *shakes head* XD
Allison Marie 