The last time I broke my leg, we decided to move out to the country into our little log house. It has three bedrooms, a loft, and a wonderful huge back porch with a million-dollar view.
Sitting in the large screened room, you can see for miles and miles of green pasturelands and some of the big black Angus cattle. We even sat there last week and watched a big mama cow give birth to a small black baby calf. Priceless!
Relaxing out there at night, you will hear the little green tree frogs as they serenade with their bizarre singing sounds. Then, there is the ever-haunting sounds of the many coyotes that howl in the thick forest of the perimeter. The late-night ritual has become one of our most cherished times here on the farm.
But all this peace and tranquility have brought about the one thing I have feared and dreaded for the past several years — selling our family home in town.
We moved into our main house about 40 years ago, and unlike our little farmhouse, it covers many square feet. We have three floors and six bedrooms instead of the 2,000 square feet we live in here.
We have, after much consternation, anxiety and concerns, decided to sell our beautiful home.
We have come to the understanding that this is just too much house for us at this time in our lives. But can I tell you how distraught this understanding has made me? This is the place I raised my children, enjoyed so many Christmases, celebrated birthdays, had so many tea parties, and perfected my yard and the many pretty nooks and crannies of a more than huge yard. There are just so many memories attached to this house.
Still, we have been empty nesters for many years now and the size is just too much for two people.
We always hoped that one of our children or our children’s children would want to take over the excitement and enjoyment of raising their families here, but our kids have their own homes and our grandchildren find it just too big to handle right now at this time in their lives.
After the sentimentalities and emotions are accepted, I feel the fear and dread of packing up 40 years inside this big old house and finding somewhere to put all the memories.
We have told our children to go and put their names on all the furniture, etc., that they would like to have and with 14, perhaps, I won’t have too much to pack.
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I have found a new and better way to fix baked sweet potatoes. Cut the potato down the center, horizontally. Rub the entire potato with olive oil and sprinkle with pink sea salt, salt, pepper and a little cinnamon. Pour a good amount of honey on the baking sheet and place the potato cut side down. Bake at 375 degrees for one hour. It’s crispy on the outside and soft in the middle.
