(10 minute read)
Home sweet home, or as Dorothy says, “There’s no place like home.” Or in my case, “Farm sweet farm.” Anyone who knows me well knows that I am a homebody. My favorite days are when my car does not leave the driveway. It was true when I lived in a city suburb bustling with dog walkers and leaf-blowing landscapers. It is also true living out here in the country. I love a day (or two) of barn chores, puttering around the house, reading on the comfy sofa and writing. I welcome a rainy day or snow flurries, reinforcing my inclination to stay home. And when temperatures soar, I am either inside the air conditioned house or floating in the pool. At home.
So last winter, on a dreary cold day in January, we started talking about our summer vacation. The Lake Tahoe month long stay idea seemed wild and crazy to me. Leave my house for four weeks? We barely leave for a string of more than a couple days. Still, for some reason, I was drawn to the idea of “living” in beautiful Lake Tahoe in a smaller house with no animals or fields of grass to cut. It would be like playing make-believe. Instead of a princess in a tower, I would be a lakeside resident in the beautiful cool Sierra Nevada mountains. Instead of the fire breathing dragon it would be the black bear visiting me. In my head six months ago, I pictured myself swimming in the cold lake each day, taking hikes, bike rides, and boat rides. We could be neighbors with our dear friends who have lived on opposite sides of the country. I envisioned different members of my west coast family stopping in for a few nights over the course of that month “living” in Tahoe. I saw leisure mornings with the only mouth to feed being my own. I could read and write. The main draw was that our whole family in Virginia would be making the cross country trek to be reunited with two other families (our framily) for one of those weeks. It sounded wonderful! Just one little problem to solve (besides paying for this vacation)…
How can I leave the farm for that long? Fifteen chickens, one horse, seven goats, two cats, and two dogs all depend on our daily care. I was determined to find a way. It required a commitment from our oldest son to play “farmer” for the whole month (excluding the one week that he joined us in Tahoe). I filmed myself doing all of the morning barn chores of feeding and mucking stalls. I wrote out notes (pages and pages of notes). Just as I had done for babysitters years ago, I left instructions and timelines for everyone and everything. The cats, dogs, chickens, goats and horse all have different needs, which add up to a lot. Until you sit down to write who needs what and when, you do not realize how much work it is to care for a large herd (or family). To complicate matters slightly, when my son joins us for that one week he passes the pitch fork over to our neighbor. I also wrote out notes for her.
I learned long ago that you can never be too specific or lengthy in notes for sitters. It may also come from my days of teaching when I left lesson plans for the substitute teachers. It was always easier to return to the classroom if the substitute had carried the class through our typical routine (using my notes). The same is true for babysitters, if she is aware of our house rules, the easy meal prep and their bedtime schedules, then I will walk back into a less chaotic household. Even with our first baby, before leaving the house I left copious instructions for my mom (an experienced mother who most likely did not need any). I like to err on the side of too much information. One thing I do pride myself in is not worrying about things at home when I have left all of my notes with responsible caregivers.
So we did it! We hugged and kissed all the animals goodbye (twice, since our flight was cancelled and rescheduled two days later). We hopped on an airplane and flew across the country to live like people without pets or livestock. Just us (and the bear that came to visit). It was heavenly, everything and more. No mucking stalls or cleaning water buckets in the early morning. No dogs the size of ten year old humans stretched across our bed. No cat poopy litter to scoop. Just cool breezy mountain air and refreshing clear lake water to swim in! I was too busy vacationing to truly miss the herd. I told myself that is was a short window of time and to be present and enjoy the break.
My adventurous month included: swimming, boating, biking, hiking, tennis, pickle ball, birthday celebrations, a sixty’s theme party, a wig dance party, dining out at restaurants, drinking Rum Runners, Chambers Punch and Wet Woodys, sister time, watching our wedding video with my parents, going to a live concert, and even parasailing.
I was asked a month ago if I wanted to take part in the parasailing adventure. I quickly responded with the bulging eye emoji and a “yikes, no thank you.” But something changed while I was out west, living out of my comfort zone, I decided I did want to parasail. Me? The one who is scared of a ferris wheel and those slow people mover chair lift rides at theme parks? I got a burst of courage. Before I had a chance to change my mind we were on the boat getting our instructions from the cool laidback parasailing dudes. My partner was my oldest son (the farmer on vacation). I knew he would make me laugh and help me to not freak out. Two things made me feel safer: no sharks in the lake and taking off from a speed boat, not a hard sandy beach. It was amazing! I shrieked and howled with laughter as we flew off the back of the boat platform. But then as we got higher into the air it was actually peaceful and quiet with the colorful parachute lifting us from behind. I did not look straight down below my dangling feet. Instead I looked all around us at the snow capped Sierra Nevada mountains surrounding the blue lake. We were told that seven different shades of blue can be found in Lake Tahoe due to the depth variations. The view from above was breathtaking as I soared way out of my comfort zone. On our descent the parasailing dudes gave us a quick dip into the cold lake, which again made me howl with laughter. The afternoons that I spent sitting in an Adirondack chair gazing out across the sparking water of Lake Tahoe, I reminded myself to take in this view, remember it. I knew it was only a matter of time before this view would be replaced by the pastures of grass behind our house.
If I am being totally honest, there were times I did feel a little homesick or farm sick. We saw people walking their doodle dogs and I thought about Koda and Summer. While I did not run into any goats, chickens, horses or cats, I did look at the clock and imagine what they were doing at the moment. If curiosity (or farm sickness) got the best of me I’d glance at their cuteness on my phone at all the dozens of pictures I have of them. Or if I got a notification of movement, I would open the Wyze app. The cameras I have on the pasture gave me live action views of the goats and Kip. It helped me to see Ada and the other kids happily grazing around the pasture. Sometimes the movement sensed would be Kip, up close and personal, right in front of the camera. It was all I needed to see. Then I shut off my phone and went for another dip in the lake.
I have always said that one of the best things about leaving your house is the feeling you get of returning home. Even departing from such a beautiful place like Lake Tahoe, this holds true. My flight was delayed which got me into the airport after midnight. I was zonked from a long day of travel, and multiple doses of Dramamine (to weather the bumpy ride). I slept most of the hour long ride home from the airport, waking up to the sound of the car’s tires on our gravel driveway. I yawned and stretched, sitting up tall, eager to see the front porch lights welcoming me home. The airport shuttle driver left me at my doorstep with my luggage. I turned the door knob and entered the dark foyer. Koda and Summer bounded out of our bedroom barking at the intruder until they recognized me. I brought in my bags and walked over to the sofa in the dimly lit living room. The outpouring of love was like nothing else. I have never been licked by these two dogs as much as I was during that homecoming. They are tail waggers and sneezers in excitement. But licking? My face, my neck. Lick, lick, lick. I could not stop giggling. They kept on giving kisses and I kept on laughing. It was the most affectionate I have ever seen our two aussiedoodles. I felt their love and maybe even their forgiveness that I had been gone so long. I was home, in our happy place with a heart full of gratitude and a bunch of great memories from a month living by the lake.
(Stay tuned for the next post detailing the not-so-rosy picture of returning home)
Leave a comment