Skyberry

It's been quite a long time since my fingers have found the words to describe this life journey. Perhaps it's that after Costa Rica I doubted that any future adventure, if not on foreign soil, could compare or be worthy of retelling or reminiscing. 

But here I am again with my heart overflowing and my mind's pen slowly finding the language to capture all that's spilling forth. 

On June 28th, I stood in my parents' driveway where I have said goodbye so many times before. This time, I was not throwing my bags in the back of my car with bravado, but rather I was gingerly placing all I had packed in my Mama's car, fretting over size and space and all that was before me on the unknown open road. Jack and I had been in an incredibly rough time and chapter, yet we were committed to do this trip together. A trip we'd been planning for months and had truly worked to make a reality. 

We were headed to work (WWOOF) on a farm just outside of Portland, Oregon for a few weeks including a week of travel out there & a return trip home. 

The concern in my parents' eyes as we loaded the car said everything that our voices couldn't seem to hold in the air. It was the longest drive I've ever made to Boone.

Whether it was luck, fate or some divine conspiracy, he and I loaded the car & headed west on June 29th. 

Just a few weeks later, I’m sitting here at Skyberry Farm on a quiet Sunday morning. We’ve been here for a couple of weeks now, and somehow - strangely - today is our last full day. 

This little 3 acre farm is one of the most magical places I have ever been. Its community has made me feel alive in ways that I haven’t felt since I stood under that Central American sky. 

Early mornings gave way to the fullest of days, and I have rarely been alone - but in a beautiful way. 

I’ve been surrounded by animals and people and laughter and music and philosophical questions and recipes and pure life, freshly squeezed by capable hands ready to guide and support me. 

Other than when we are working, time seems to slow here. Morning comes calmly and evenly, the afternoon settles slowly and evening draws out its sunset production & we often watch eagerly from the rooftop and applaud with our laughter.

Life on the farm has reminded me of my roots, of how much lighter you can dance upon the earth when you shed what you don’t truly need, and how damn beautiful you feel when you thrive on rich, fresh food. 

Veggies often find their way into every meal and the ingredients have been picked mere minutes before kissing the plate. The shelves are full and open and we share. Oh, how we share! Meals are made large and by many hands to feed many mouths and we sit shoulder to shoulder around a table and share stories of travel and dreams and past loves and family. 

Sid, Garrett, Patrick, Aneta, Jordan, Spencer and Jack (Arista and Summer too). I will miss this family. 

And of course the fur babies that bring smiles all around - Vera and Moonshine. 

We have shared so much - thoughtful discussion, meditation in the sunshine, cold beer in the evening light, food around a busy kitchen, encouragement in projects, help in bravely facing the turkeys, an extra set of hands collecting chicken eggs, tai chi in the sunshine to loosen our weary muscles, thoughtful listening to our life’s little burdens and big shooting star dreams. 

My only regret is that I can’t stay longer. 

But I know the road will carry me back. 

This journey has reminded me that there is so much joy in life - small & big & dirty & new & old & full. 

After all this is a life of carrots waiting to be pulled fresh from the soil, of tomatoes that taste like sunshine, of soft grass in warm sunshine, of blisters on hands - testament of hard work, of cool sunrises & the poetic promise of sunsets, of juicy watermelons and their willingness to be shared, of toasts, of beautiful breathtaking music, of fresh baked cookies, of the so-good-stiff-soreness of a day’s labor, of wonderfully reaping what you sow (plant your seeds carefully), of new forever friendships and of deep, and most of all - this is a life of rich roots tying you to this whole incredible earth. 

Thank you, Skyberry, a dear home built of friends and dark soil and happiness. Thank you.