On "home"

The first part of our holiday travels have taken us home. Susan's family's home that is, but after better than a dozen years of coming here regularly, it feels quite at home to me as well. There actually isn't one particular home - there's mom's house, dad's house, a sister's house, and the farm. The farm. I remember when Susan first spoke of the farm (then also the home of her grandparents), shortly after I met her; this city-boy-from-Illinois conjured up images straight out of the flatlands of the midwest. But its not at all like that. There hasn't been a crop grown here in decades - just some hay and usually some cows. And hills, ridges, creeks, and valleys with plenty of woods. And the lake. Lake is really more than it deserves - its really a pond, but it is called the lake. Close enough to the house to be easily accessible even on a quick trip on a day where the weather isn't so great, but far enough away to be transforming. Ducking through the woods off the upper field is almost like going thru the Wardrobe. No snow though, at least this time.

Since the house is empty most of the time and we are now four of us, we have been staying at the farm on our longer trips here, which has only served in increase my appreciation. For when one is staying here, sunrise & sunset, the coming and going of the moon, dew (or frost) on the grass, the general stillness; all are more thoroughly experienced. It is good to go home, even if it is an adopted one.