Chris and I are starting to get accustomed to going on separate vacations. No, we aren’t having marital problems, we are just farming. Last week, somewhere between seeing friends in Indianapolis and Kansas City, I made a quick stop in Green Bay, Wisconsin and spent two nights in my parent’s beautiful 107 year-old home, complete with a cottage garden out back and a weekly (local) milk and egg delivery to the front porch.
We ate my Grandmother’s raspberry pie and homemade pizza from the garden, and talked and knit on the front porch rockers. The nights were chilly and the leaves were starting to turn. It felt like fall for the first time.
Like always, it was good to be home.