After 11 looooooong days of post-surgery, I just drove up to the farm this afternoon (though my surgeon would literally have a heart-attack if he knew I made that drive). Wait. Before I keep writing that magical word, farm, I need to clarify that right now we have absolutely nothing that qualifies us as a farm. It's more of a dream term, if you will, meaning that I am choosing to believe that if I say it enough, I will actually end up with a farm. And to be fair, I did tell my students it was a farm, and now we have two ducks. Naysayers beware.
So, I drove the four hours and fifteen minutes up the 101 North today to surprise J who has been living on our land now, more on than off, for 2 months. He came down to help me convalesce from my second knee surgery for a few days and then came back up. I can't blame him. My parents' neighborhood blows compared to Eureka Lane. Oh yeah, that's our new street. How freaking fitting after a three year search. Actually, the real reason I drove up impromptu-like is that he forgot his two chocolate chip cookies from Pain du Monde. I'm not sure there is another human being in the entire world who loves his P.d.M. cookies like J does. He drove away at 4:00 am and when i awoke hours later to find his cookies still tucked away in my purse, I almost shat myself. That is the terror someone can instill in another when cookies mean that much. I'm not joking. So I immediately decided that there is only one thing a kick-ass wife can do, and that is to hand deliver the sacred sweets to my lover myself. Boy was that the right choice to make. :)
I have a bunch of pictures to upload to show the before and afters of one of our smaller fields, and I will do that in the morning. But for now, we are about to pour ourselves a glass of Riesling, sit back in our chairs, and watch the sun slowly sink behind our neighbor's wheat field. I still can't believe we did it. God bless listening to your heart.
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