Dr. Jason wants me to sweat. Living in Texas, you don’t have to do much to work up a sweat, but I do enjoy sweating while working in the yard. A couple of my workouts are 45 minutes long, so I sweat, but it’s different than working outside.
My friend, Dwight, over at Faded Jeans Living and I Marco Polo around once a week and I’m so grateful for his support and friendship. Recently, I told him something about myself that came as a shock and I realized that you dear reader probably don’t know this about me either. I used to live on a small ranch with a variety of animals.
It was 2012 and toward the end of my marriage, but working with the animals kept me semi-sane. When I was at the end of my rope, I’d walk up the hill of the backyard to clean out the chicken coop. It was stifling hot up there, but once the coop was clean there’s was nothing more satisfying than filling it with a fresh bag of cedar shavings and collecting the bounty of eggs. My chickens were referred to as Easter eggers because of the colorful variety of eggs they laid.
Talking with Dwight about this era of my life has released a flood of memories, but most are lovely, until it was time to leave. When I told my husband our marriage was over, he told me to leave, so I had to find every animal a good home. That part was brutal.
Sitting here today it’s funny how even on the ranch I knew what pretty was. My chickens could’ve won beauty contests they were so gorgeous, but there was one I loved the most. Her name was Reese and she followed me around like a dog with an attitude. I always told her, “Reese, if I looked like you, I’d have an attitude as well.”
She was a Crested Polish and the plume atop her head was so fluffy I’m not sure how she saw where she was going. Maybe that’s why she followed me around so much, she was navigating life through the sound of my boots. Here she is perched on my arm.
My daughter helped me with the ranch and she even gave it a name and helped create it’s logo. We raised miniature pigs, sheep, chickens, ducks and for a bit had a horse and a miniature donkey. I won’t have another donkey…they make a lot of noise.
I was in the best physical condition of my life and since I’ve been working out I can feel that part of me rising up again. The other day, instead of bending over to drag a heavy pot, I caught myself instinctively bending my knees into a sumo squat and lifting the planter with my legs. I was able to carry it from the front yard to the back with ease.
Where I live today, taught me patience through plants and how to nurture flowers into bloom, but I miss working on a farm. I’ve realized that even my yard uniform of today is similar to the clothes I wore back then while working up a sweat outdoors. I miss having exotic chickens and a miniature pig is easier to house train than any dog I’ve had.
It’s one of the perks of aging. We get to a point where we choose what pieces of ourselves are true and what parts aren’t necessary for now, but the woman who lived and breathed Hope Tree Farm is definitely worth keeping around.
Opt-in here for my September offering.
I’d love to hear your thoughts.