May 14th will be Hillhouse Writers 5th anniversary. It will probably be a quiet celebration on the farm, mowing lawns, milking, weeding, and taking time out to write. And, of course, there's the pure enjoyment of the animals. One young adult guest who helped with creating our garden paths recently remarked, "They all love you. All the animals, love you."
I think this loves comes from a deep rootedness and gratitude, my gratitude. When I see my sheep and bend down to say 'hello', I am filled with love and gratitude. The animals pick up on this, and in turn just return the love. Love is simple when grass is plentiful and the grain barrel is full of tasty corn. Love is simple when there is peace in your heart.
Farming, even on the small scale level that we do, however, is hard work. Yet, I am so much stronger now than I was five years ago. There is so much to do. I am never bored. And when we have house guests, (we are, after all, more an Agritourism farm, than true farmers) there's the added joy of company and servitude. As I service this land, I serve my guests, because they make it all possible.
Five years ago, when I first stood on the hill which I now know as field three and the almost continuous Hillhouse breeze lapped past my cheeks, I was filled with a taste of this inner peace. It was such a profound experience; I kept looking for excuses to come back to the hill. Even if it mean driving the 140 mile round trip from Nashville! I wanted to know it, once again. After just a few hours of drinking in this invisible wind, I would return to our hectic lives back in suburbia basking in the knowingness of this profound inner calm. Like the eye of the proverbial tornado, I stood in a center of clear skies, while life around me swirled.
My city friends wonder sometimes why they don't see me very often, I've kind of disappeared from many social networks, but I don't feel a loss. Not that I don't miss cherished friends, it's just that this farm has somehow entered the deepest parts of my self and I have become rooted. Empty places that I didn't even know existed have become filled with the vibrancy of the land. I think growing up in suburban America I have always been Nature Deficient. (The description coined by Richard Louv in his 2005 book Last Child in the Woods)
I had a sneaking suspicion when I was urban and suburban over the thirty plus years of marriage and raising kids, that we needed as humans to reconnect to our agrarian past, that living in square walls, and walking paved streets, purchasing our foods from the shelves of stores, we have become a disconnected peoples, always seeking something that was missing because the world we lived in was not real. Not in the natural sense of life.
And so at this historic time of quiet celebrations, five years! It's hard to believe, it went by so fast, I invite all of you, to take a walk outside and connect with something living and attached to the land. And if you feel the nudge to escape a little longer, and wish to let that Hillhouse breeze kiss your cheeks, or you would like to experience the joy of meeting my favorite ewe, Cheddar and her spring lamb, or Zero the bull calf that is more like a big dog. I would love to be, at your service with gratitude. Because ultimately, this farm holds more joy than I can hold without sharing. But that is part of the natural cycle of life, a circular flow that leaves all stronger, more connected, and more ready to face the challenges of any task. Whether that task be a blank page, a fresh canvas, or the return to a suburban/urban life. Come and stay with us a while, enjoy the dark skies filled with stars, or drink in the lush green rolling hills with your eyes. There are many ways to be fed, here at Hillhouse. I won't even discuss the custom gourmet meals. We believe in abundance and peace. And the gratitude that comes when you find both.
In closing, Happy Mother's Day to all mothers, may you know peace on your special day!
Yours,
Karen
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