A simple blog title

I have fallen in love with the place God dropped my family two years ago.

The neighbors have open arms. Our little country church, just down the road, is a perfect fit. The space is wide. The air is pure. The serenity and solitude bring peace to my cluttered mind. There is life outside my window. My kids can run. The earth in my garden is fertile. Things grow here. I am ready to put down roots.

Neighbors refer our place as "the old Nichols farm".

As it should, our farm has some history. I love the stories.

Lightening once hit the windmill, followed the water line to the house and blew the plumbing apart in the basement... all moments after a mother pulled her children out of the tub. Old man Nichols foot is fabled to be buried in the backyard. Descriptions of endless snow fill me with terror and admiration. The previous lady of the house thought it was haunted. If it was, my spirited boys must have frightened it away.

Morning after morning I let the chickens out, following a path invaded by weeds and grass. I think of the feet that walked that path before mine. Once upon a time, someone carefully planted the plum trees that we watch with anticipation all summer. I sit on the front steps and look up, amazed at the brilliant stars in such a huge sky. Certainly, a weary farmer sat on those steps in days past, and gazed at the same bright stars. I eat my breakfast while watching the sun rise beyond the windmill, nourishing my body and soul, and feel a connection to the past.

I struggled to create a witty blog title. Then I realized that perhaps, it was quite simple.

What am I likely to write about? Children laughing and fighting, chickens scratching and singing, a garden that grows and gives and dies, yet allows me another chance next year. My life, and my perception of God in the world I am immersed in here. Right here. On the Old Nichols Farm.