Last night, friends and family gathered at our new firepit at the edge of the pasture to celebrate my 40th birthday. I sat on a bench left here by the previous owners and watched fire lick the stones that once formed the original chimney of this house. On my lap, the four-year-old son of my dear high school friend, bent and doubled with the joy of movement that only a child can remember, and behind me, my precious college friend laughed and smacked her teasing husband with her mittens.
Jelly Roll the kitten gave us all a show – and me a skipped heartbeat since something about the firelight made me think she was a bobcat – and Meander spun herself in wide circles of joy around us.
It was perfect. The first fire, the first large gathering, the first party here on the new farm.
The other part of the evening – before the wind died down and the fire lit up – we wandered through the farmhouse, all 15 of us, scattering into rooms with beer and wine, talking . . . filing all the corners with the light of conversation. It felt so lovely to be able to have people inside together.
So today, when we make a trip down to the old farmhouse to pick up something we forgot, I’m sure I’ll be a bit nostalgic, but really, I’ll be grateful for the lift that place gave and the way this one has made room for so much more in our lives.
Don’t forget to stop by on your way through Radiant. We’re just across from the post office. We need your voice to live in this space, too.