We have a farm in Oregon. (Actually we have two…but stick with me). We have a farm in Oregon, at the north end of Dead Ox Flat. The Snake River runs alongside this flat, Idaho lies to the North and East, and the farm lies at an altitude of about 2152 feet. (Raise you hand if you know the inspiration for this opening. Or should I say source of my plagiarism or is it really, since I cited my source?)
Greg owned this farm when we first met and he has farmed it for about eight years. This past summer we had the opportunity to live here. Well one thing led to another…
We bought another farm.
We adopted some goats. (The cow came later)
A great family agreed to lease our house in Boise, and I was hired at Pioneer Elementary in the final hours.
…And we decided to move here. Best decision we have ever made for our family!
At the end of Out of Africa, Isak Dinesen writes…
If I know a song of Africa, of the giraffe and the African new moon lying on her back, of the plows in the fields and the sweaty faces of the coffee pickers, does Africa know a song of me? Will the air over the plain quiver with a color that I have had on, or the children invent a game in which my name is, or the full moon throw a shadow over the gravel of the drive that was like me, or will the eagles of the Ngong Hills look out for me?