Over six years on the west coast.
Closing in on seven (seven!) years together.
Twenty-seven months in our 16×20 temporary home.
Two children instead of two babies.
Goats. Chickens. Ducks. Pigs. Beets. Tomatoes.
A fig tree. And the fig tree that replaced the first fig tree.
Cords upon cords of firewood.
Tears, laughter, memories to preserve and forget.
This adventure of ours – myself and that wonderful gentleman who so graciously operates as my partner in parenthood, livestock management, business and love – is ours. Unlike chapters in physical books that can so neatly be titled and assigned pages where you know exactly where you stand (at least functionally) in a story…life is not like that. Our “narrative” (barf) is not the same. We’re living, breathing, human beings who inevitably experience changes that both pop up out of nowhere and sneak up behind us.