A Far Cry...

The first time I ever set foot on Bufflehead Pond Farm, the farm still believed its name was Abildhøj Farm.  The place utterly charmed me and I fell completely, hopelessly, terminally in love... and I knew that I would be a very lucky girl indeed if ever I were invited to go and live there.

I guess by now I have earned my way in, sort of, by virtue of using up a considerable chunk of my lifetime supply of elbow grease... hacking down blackberry brambles (but keeping enough to create jams & preserves!), putting up deer fencing (fishing line, actually, and it works brilliantly!), tearing down corral fencing to make way for our new house, ripping out great stumps, and learning how to putt-putt around the place in the driver's seat of Bruce's tractor.  Definitely not complaining!  I love this work, and it helps keep me young and strong... and pales in comparison to the incalculable hours Bruce has spent on jobs like these.  It never ends, and isn't likely to lessen with time.  This is a good thing.

El Conquistador de los Stumpos

 And I've learned that the best birthday gifts are tools from my man that make my farming life easier, more convenient or maybe even fun (see below).

Happy Birthday, Dee!!

It's an incredibly happy time in both our lives.  But even so, today I cried all the way home from the farm, where we went this morning to measure my little cottage for new siding.  Where I had spent days cleaning up the yard of debris from the wrecking crew from last summer...  where I was already seeing in my mind's eye the beautiful grass and shrubbery that will be softening the edges of the yard... where, even though they had done the job for free, the guys had torn up the concrete lid and sides of the septic system access, replaced it with a huge green plastic lid (which was required by the permitting authorities), and left broken concrete chunks scattered everywhere... pieces too big for me to carry away.

That did it.  I burst into tears and just let it all flow out of me... for a long time.  

The process of building a home is so exciting and fun, and a bit like starting over with everything perfect...  a great Big Adventure with a happy ending coming soon. There aren't many things more enjoyable than this!  But in this case, it's also the most horrible, destructive, crazy-making, out-of-control nightmare that I've ever lived.  I didn't even realize this fully until today.  And what got to me suddenly was that all I could see before me were piles of dirt, stones, debris, mud puddles, bent rebar bits, ankle-snapping ruts from the concrete truck, and the heavy machinery having scraped all the skin off the face of the open land.  What was once green and alive now seems black, dead, destroyed.  There's nothing beautiful to look at.  

And it broke my heart in two.

But, never fear!  The sun will come out again and my mid-winter blues will evaporate, the heavy trucks and machines will go back to their respective planets, all the trash and construction debris will be removed, new grass will be planted, the rain garden next to the house will be flourishing, the frogs will ribbet, and the Buffleheads will mate and produce adorable offspring to entertain us all summer long.  

I'm a very lucky girl, and I cannot wait.  :D