I already have grand visions of vaulting the ceiling and a tiny loveseat with cats on it and a dog bed nearby. I see bookshelves living the walls and a big farm table for my desk. 
This is my dream for my new office. . . the one that comes with the new farmhouse we just bought about an hour from where our farm sits now.
It’s sad to leave this beautiful mountain, the place where so much healing came, where so much dreaming grew, where dreams became caprine feet and fresh eggs. The place where my love and I wed . . .
And yet, I have no doubt this is a good thing, a wonderful thing, the right thing. The farmhouse is 210 years old, so it has lived through much of our nation’s greatness and much of its darkness. Out front, there is a voting house, and I’m eager to research the history of that building and the tiny town into which we will pour ourselves. I’m thrilled to have found a historic house, and I’m honored to be the steward of it for a while. Plus, look at that cute building that will be my office. A space all my own – I think Virginia Woolf would be proud.
We have much work to do – packing, prepping for the hour-long journey with 16 birds, 6 goats, 3 dogs,
and 5 cats, (We’ll be sure to take pictures.), and preparing the new land for these wonderful creatures.
So writing will be lesser for the next month, and I will pour my energy into furniture plans and reveling over my books as I pack them for what we hope to be our final move in this lifetime. Plus, I need to get to the historical society to find out a little more about this new home of ours.
This is the way of life, right? The ebbs and flows of dreams and words. Hard and glorious all in the same moment.
We do hope you’ll come by the new God’s Whisper Farm and celebrate the history and the stories with us.