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The Secret Places

It is true, it can be challenging to get me to leave the farm. There is so very much to do and it will never be the kind of place that is 'done'. Mostly because the amount of money to repair the deferred maintenance, the undoing of the projects that just did not pan out as expected, the time one person has to maintain a life that is made growing food, caring for animals, and just trying to keep things in the present.


Making peace with the unfinished and the 'mess' of chaos that is this living breathing Place is a daily process. However, I can choose to live in anxiety and frustration or to remember, I know where the secret things live.


I know the fall sounds of the squeaky water birds return before they fly south, widgens mass together every year and hang out for a few weeks on the farm lake. Along with a few grebes we don't see until early spring and again in fall.

I can sit on the shore and hear the quail call to their little covy chatter chatter chatter in almost any direction.

I know where the bullfrogs leap from the banks and the trail of the group of young bucks hang out in the early morning to drink and browse.


I know the secret of fall as she begins to color the trees from green to gold, the coyote willow tips orange around the tips and way at the highest top the ancient cottonwood begins its change.


I know where the abandoned nest with an unhatched egg built on a carefully woven floating mass of reeds once surrounded by water now sits on high ground as the water is released for fall cleaning.

I know the secret to joy is to take a breath, look around, and exist in the now. I'm

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