Strange to see a sea of boxes which contain the viscera of the farmhouse.

Well, it’s been a rough week. While I’m experiencing tremendous excitement in embarking on a journey out west, to pioneer forth into a new educational frontier, feelings of sadness & stress have been tough. Many, many of your closest family & loved ones want precious in-person time with you before traversing the continent. For introverts, all of that social time on top of an energy drain of leaving a job, dismantling & closing up a dear homestead, parting with close pets, & facing goodbyes. It’s not easy.

And I know there have been many I’ve disappointed by just not having all of the time or energy to cover all of the bases.

A beautiful book given to my son who turns 2 years old, tomorrow.

My son chasing around the boxes.

Another sadness involves pulling my toddler son from a phenomenal daycare/preschool he’s attended since 8 weeks old. His various teachers & the staff signed a book for his birthday & bon voyage. One of his teachers is amazing. Her love for him is palpable, & she coaxed him to show Mommy his second step, as she’d witnessed the first earlier in the day.

She frequently scooped him up in her arms, covering him in kisses, & she’d always be the one changing his diaper, dancing with the littles, feeding them snacks. She’d be using flash cards or books, teaching sign language or Spanish numbers. Disrupting their bond hurts my heart.

A final walk through the grounds, looking at the shorn wildflower field.

The Concord grapes are perfect for making preserves, but there’s just no time.

Many of the things I love most at the farm I’m having to sacrifice, my fields, vines, orchard, & hobbies like gardening & canning. That’s a tough realization when those are the things used to recharge & provide comfort when anxious. There are great memories here, & despite all my previous moves I’ve never lived outside of New England in the United States for an extended period of time.

My lonely, empty bookshelves.

The packed-up living room.

Of course, the excitement & adventure await, & anything worth having requires personal sacrifice. As I circle through the rooms, checking & double-checking for anything missing or out of place, it starts to sink in that this is it. It’s still not real, though. Part of me feels like this is just a trip, not a move.

But here we are. And here I go.

The kitchen.

One of the bedrooms.

The laundry room.