Halfway There

Mornings are quiet on the farm. Nights even more so. Even Chris likes morning on the farm. The rooster crows at 5:30AM... Then all the lady chicks come around and peck and peep and scratch about the ground.

The paper comes rather early. Then the mail-lady in her teal jeep, later in the afternoon.The farmers wife leaves for work around 7:30AM and gets home around 7:00PM. The routine and comings and going around the farm have a soothing rhythm. It just sort of is-- and it's nice.

Chris and I made it out of Manhattan, although not without drama and tears and a minor melt down when I said sternly into the phone, "I am freaking out here!" (We got separated before we even made it three blocks from the apartment and I was just sure I was going to end up in some place in the Bronx I'd never seen. Or worse, just circling in and out of NYC over and over, having to pay that $12.00 toll each and every time.) This was my second time driving our new (1999 Buick Century 160,000 miles) car. My FIRST time driving in NYC. EVER. White knuckled, jaw clenched and shoulders drawn up under my earlobes, I made it out alive. Trying to tailgate a Budget truck in NYC is not so easy my friends.

We didn't go our usual route, thanks to my little detour. But we did find one another by the grace of God, and we made it to the farm well before 4:00pm on Monday afternoon. Since it was still daylight, we unloaded it all.... Then we unpacked it all. By 11:00pm we had unpacked every cardboard box, Chris had put together a futon and we had turned the gas on to use the oven to make a frozen pizza. I am very embarrassed to admit that our first meal in our farm apartment was a frozen pizza, a pint of Graham cracker ice cream, and beer that we bought from Stewarts. But that's life sometimes.

Tuesday we had a hearty breakfast at the local diner--- well, the diner ten miles down the road. While we noshed our eggs and drank our coffee, Chris and I were amused by the large group of gray haired people who were chatting and discussing community affairs. These twenty or so people made me feel at ease. I miss older people. There are very few gray headed folks in Manhattan.

The weather this time, unlike the last visit, was glorious and bright. The high both days was in the mid-60's and the wind wasn't even an issue. Dark clouds did roll in midday Tuesday and the farm quickly became muddy and wet again. Drainage and dampness are a major issue at the farm. Creating run-off and keeping things from rotting are serious concerns-- and upon our first visit to the farm it was very apparent. I'm going to get very muddy in the next eight months, for sure.

We continued the productivity of the trip and opened a checking account at the local bank, got a safe deposit box, took all of our boxes labeled "TX" to storage and dumped an old wicker couch at the city dump. We plan on leaving our futon when we leave the farm in November, so ..... that's that. Hope no one minds!

When I caught the 4:15pm train back to Penn Station from Albany, I felt good about leaving Chris. Well, let me clarify, I cried when I left Chris. I hate it when we are apart. BUT, I was glad that I wasn't leaving him with a stack of unopened boxes, an apartment in disarray and a "to-do" list a mile long. There were no groceries in the refrigerator, but he'll get hungry soon enough. I think he knows where to buy food. Besides gas stations and fast food restaurants.

So, I'm back in New York City for fifteen more days, if I can last that long. I have dinners planned and drinks and dates for fro-yo and walks in Brooklyn. Next Friday I'll turn thirty-two and celebrate with a lovely group of ladies. I am happy I have some time, without thinking about packing or sorting or taking things to charity... to just enjoy these last few days of living here. But sometimes I think it may actually make it harder to leave. Like one of those bad break-ups that drags out over a few days. "Please don't leave me." "Are you really breaking up with me?" "No, don't go!" Do you really want to stay with someone who's said, Hey, it's over?

Today is Chris's first day of work on the farm. He was very concerned about what to wear, which I found terribly funny. He said the plan was to spread manure, by tractor, and then by the wheelbarrow full into the greenhouses. Fun.

I'm thinking of buying a Farmer's Almanac. But that might just be too over the top. Cliche'? Maybe I just need to get out and stomp around in some manure.