This place, ending a chapter

The past few months have been tumultuous, to say the least. We were informed last fall that the property we rent was being sold, but not to worry because the new owners were excited for us to stay and continue our arrangement. Just a few short weeks ago that plan came crumbling down when we were told we did indeed have to pack our bags and go. 

We've lived on this farm for 5 years. I've built my horse boarding business here. It was this place where I realized my dream to pursue teaching Horsemanship. It was here where I made the decision not to force my horses anymore and where I committed to learning how to be with horses in a positive way. It was this farm where my life took a significant change of direction, for the better. There are places on this farm where I wept, and some where I have celebrated. I have made lifelong friends, and lost a few who I thought were friends. I founded a nonprofit animal advocacy group on this soil, literally lying in the dirt with my newly rescued Holstein calf burping in my ear. I saved lives and added them to my family. I multiplied my responsibilities twenty-fold under these oak canopies.
I realized a dream or two. I made them come to fruition. I made countless mistakes... And learned from some of them. I suffered and perservered, mentally, emotionally, and physically through winter, spring, summer, and fall.
 

This place, whether I loved it or hated it, provided a home for me and my family. 

This is where I got my horse back after FIVE long years of separation. And 5 years later this is where I had to retire her. These weeds and grass bared witness to the beautiful repairing of my relationship with Satin. The trees provided shade while I obsessively learned to throw a 45' line or flick a savvy string on the end of a carrot stick with Satin watching nearby... The dirt and leaves absorbed my sweat, blood, and tears from years of growth. The pastures have heard my cries and my praises. 

Koko was born here -- The only birth under my care. Two horses died here. Others were 'born again' here.

I've gotten to know our resident red-shoulder hawks and our pair of barred owls. I watched baby owls play in my water trough and shared in their laughter. I've met venomous snakes - some huge ones and some tiny - and relocated them a few blocks away. I named a few raccoons, and gave refuge to a silly opposum named Butters. I've been spooked in the dark of night by many an armadillo.

At times it seems I've been here for a hundred years, and other times it feels like yesterday John and I were clasping hands with grins on both our faces, excited for the future of this place. But it wasn't always daisies and roses... More often than not it felt like a tremendous struggle to inhabit this dilapidated mobile home under the canopy of ever-falling limbs atop dusty, sandy soil. 

Alas, this chapter of our lives is about to conclude. I will take away endless learning experiences and priceless moments. We are about to embark on a new path, the next chapter. I expect to use the tools and knowledge I've gained from this place and the last 5 years for living an even better chapter this time.