Dreams

My to-do list swirled around in my head holding sleep at bay this afternoon (my other job is working nights).  I resigned myself to come out from under the blankets and go into the kitchen and get a pad and pen so that I might expel some of the projects from my brain and onto a list for later planning.  The page of the steno sized notebook was quickly full and I was finally able to lie back down and close my eyes.  Sleep still evaded me and I laid there with my eyes closed thinking about what my farm will look like when it is done.  “Done,” I chuckled.  When is farming ever ‘done’?

A full cheese cave popped into my head, several wheels of aging cheese in various stages of repose.  Next to the cave is the root cellar, full of winter squash, potatoes, garlic, onions, and carrots.  Walking back towards the stairs, the shelves full of preserves and canned vegetables stand proudly in a rainbow of colors.  The two freezers just past the shelves are full of frozen vegetables, berries and meat from the summer and fall harvest and hunting seasons.

Up the stairs onto the wood warmed main floor, the kitchen in front of me, cabinets and walls made from the knotty pine which my father complained blocked his view of the lake.  The maple tree which stood beside my grandparents’ home provides the counter top for the island.  Hours spent picking stones from the corn piece and meadows on the farm are that much more rewarding when the result is the stunning hand stacked fireplace that occupies the center of the main floor living area.  Orange, yellow and red flickers from the fire provide even more warmth as we nestle into the couch to enjoy a glass of cider pressed from the heirloom trees in the orchard we rehabilitated not to long ago. 

Outside, the breeze tosses up a flurry against the oversized windows which look across the deck and down over the hill to the lake beyond.  The chicken coop light casts a gentle glow through the window onto the whitening lawn below.  Smaller outbuildings which house the pigs, rabbits and goats did not get their desperately needed extra coats of paint this year, but perhaps some warmer weather will bless us in the next week or so.  

The kids are sleeping upstairs dreaming no doubt of their escapades with the loose rabbit today.  Small growls, ‘ruff’s and twitches of tail and paws accompany the dreams of the dogs chasing the moles between the Christmas trees.  Gentle snores come from the husband against whom I lean with dreams of the day hunting and the conquest of deer that now hangs in the garage.  Soft flute music wafts through the air as the fire burns down.  I snuggle deeper into my husband’s side sipping on my cider and think to myself, ‘there is probably something I could be doing right now.’  But I think better of it and drift to sleep in my husbands arms, on the couch, in my house, on my small farm in Northwestern Vermont.

I awoke tonight with renewed enthusiasm that my vision/dream of the warm cozy farmhouse will happen.  Tomorrow I will check one more thing off the to-do list with finishing the winterization of the chicken coop on one of the last warmish days I think we have left this fall although with the rain, this chicken coop too will not get the coat of paint it needs.  And even though the mowing didn’t get finished, I think it might be time to put the lawnmower away.  The grass will still be there in the spring.