Recently home for very sad reasons, I was blessed enough to visit my father's old family homestead. My grandfather was born in that farmhouse circa 1892 back when the farm was a working dairy. Now it is home to a lovely 540 acre body of water, called Cane Creek Reservoir and many crops of soybeans.
I vaguely remember as a teen when my father sold his part of the land to to OWASA (Orange Water and Sewer Authority) but that's a story for another day.
It never fails. No matter my mood, no matter the issues, wherever I am in my life, the land always restores me. I drink in both the beauty, and quiet of the land. Inevitably, I will stand on the porch, look out at the winding dirt road, and just close my eyes. I can almost imagine the horse and buggies just cresting the hill. I can see them coming into view.
The land is part of me.
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