The Farm

Though I have lived many places in my life (Chico, Santa Cruz, Surrey, Irvine.....), there will never be a place that weaves itself so thoroughly into the fibers of my being as The Farm. My earliest memories are of this magical place and some of my most momentous life events happened her (had my first crush on a neighboring boy, said "i love you" to Eric for the first time, started my period one summer here). I've seen it change from winter to spring to summer to fall and back again---again and again. It holds a place in my heart as truly as any beloved friend. 




White picket fences, the dark-bottomed "pond" pool, lilacs and heirloom tomatoes, sand and red ants, sycamores, the Hollow, crape myrtle blossoms, unruly roosters, the bug zapper, crackling bonfires and grandpa on his harmonica, warm eggs from the hens, lying in the shade, grapes hot from the sun, dragonflies, pomagranates, horseshoes, laughter with aunts and pumpkin pie...







Playing croquet and capture the flag with dozens of cousins, pickles and cheese and olives and apricots on a breadboard for lunch, corn silk, gleaning for walnuts, watching rain droplets in the pool, always baby kittens, grandpa's drawing lessons, finding a pencil in the telephone booth, using your favorite old plate that has been there since you were five, old-fashioned percolated coffee and real cream.....