04/29/2024
Good bye, Edgmon Road farm.
Good bye, old house. Home sweet home, but now just a house again, and soon not even that. Over 30 years of memories.
Good bye, hill that was my home. Lone Pine Pasture. Bean-hole beans pasture. My home.
Good bye, old chimney, holding memories before our time. And the old well nearby, and the other two that also held secrets of a past time. We found old marbles, silverware, and coins around you.
Good bye, old milk barn. Once I turned you into my private tack room, then you became my lesson barn, then our boarder barn and tack room.
Good bye, old hay barn. You were slowly decaying anyway, but remember the dozens or feral cats I loved? The puppies? The foals—defining moments? The parties and pictures? Calves? My kids’ secret hideouts?
Good bye, lesson barn. We knew we needed you to make a program happen for real. We built your stalls, and Caven watched us from his baby backpack hung up on a nail. So many riders appreciated your shelter.
Good bye, iron tub-thing, always stuck in the trees.
Good bye, Parthenon, our hay barn and tool shed. We had fun building you with those big telephone pole supports.
Good bye, Sugar Bush Trail. Your maple trees made such delicious syrup, and the synchronous fireflies we’d just discovered there in the past few years were so magical. I hope they find a new home.
Good bye, Ginger Bottoms, and the whole network of trails we built and loved (mostly). I will deeply miss my favorite patches of trilliums, and may apples, and the one Jack in the Pulpit along the lower trail, and the big tree with the big hole in the bottom.
Good bye, Gallop Hill, so named for obvious reasons, favorite Friday night hangout from years ago.
Good bye, this section of the Little Wolftever creek. I used to love finding the big mother of pearl clam shells. Those disappeared a long time ago, but we still loved having our kids’ birthday parties down along your banks, and so many more kids enjoyed cooking off in your bends.
Good bye, front hay field. Oh, how we used that field! We used to tie my horses out there every day before we had fenced pastures. Gymkhanas, science fair projects, softball, sledding, kites, horse tag around the sinkholes . . .
Good bye, Hillside Pasture. I did hate bushhogging all your ups and downs, but I knew where they all were.
Good bye, swampy Trillium Pasture. Your spring frog chorus was so loud and beautiful.
Good bye, farm.
Good bye.
Good bye.
