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It sounds like an odd thing to say: rewriting life. In some sense, that's what the farm is all about. It's about taking the time to identify the things that make the heart sing...and the things that don't. It's about taking passions and backing them with purpose, making priorities out of dreams, and finding ways to give them life. 

Much of my life has been spent going where others have told me to go. I was a child of the military, with father and grandfathers serving in the US Army and Air Force. Once I began college, I thought the moving was over, at least until I found my somewhere to settle down. After college, I married and moved once more across the country. One child and several years later, I became a pastor in the United Methodist Church--I went from a settled life to an itinerant life once again. I actually have never lived in a house I chose for myself! In my half-century life, I've moved dozens of times, and assembled and broken down hundreds of cardboard boxes. I've cleared out for moving and organized new spaces more times than I can count. I've planted gardens and had to leave them behind--that, my dears, is heartbreaking.

The farm is a rewrite. 

The farm is my love of gardening, it is my love of creating beautiful places, it is my passion for creating wellness and wholeness and helping others find it for themselves. It is a place I can use my creativity and experiment with my imagination. It is a place to breathe deeply and reconnect with the earth and its elements.

Right now, it's a part-time vision, living alongside my full-time life. But I am learning to give voice to my vision and create my own future, and while it makes for long and busy days, it is turning into an amazing adventure! I'm meeting wonderful people, and designing all sorts of fun things with fun people. I'm plotting gardens and planning restorations and dreaming all sorts of wonderful new dreams.

Rewriting a life isn't about erasing what has gone before. Sure, there are chapters I would rather forget. There are mistakes made, mishaps survived, wrong paths considered and sometimes taken. I haven't been all I could have been, nor all I have wanted to be. But, all these things add up to who and where I am now. Rewriting my life means taking the lessons I've learned and applying them to the chapters still to be written.

The farm gets to be a lead character in these next few chapters. The gardens are unfolding in my head, with all the knowledge gleaned from gardens past. I know what I can plant and reasonably hope to survive. I know what plants I am a complete failure with, and I know all the things I am dying to try. The house, this lovely house, has all sorts of wonderful potential for us, for our children, for our (we hope) future grandchildren, for our friends, and for all the guests we hope will come our way. I can't wait to create the kitchen and restore the rooms--and to share it all with you along the way.

We are also working hard to create wonderful experiences to share with others who want to do some life-rewriting too--creating workshops and day-away opportunities for refreshing mind, body, and spirit. We are hoping to present three of these in 2017, not at the farm, but next door in a building currently better-suited for hosting groups-the former Presbyterian Mission Center. I can't wait to offer you this time and space away to focus on refining your dreams and creating the next chapters in your life.

​Keep watching our events page!

A wedding at the Farm!

On September 17, 2016 Alex Mackey married Justin Babcock, after seven years as sweethearts. Her parents are dear friends, and we've known Alex for years. It worked out that they got engaged just after we bought the farm and began working on it. Alex asked if they could be married here, we were thrilled to say yes, and with the offer of some help working on the barn, they settled on the date.

​It was so exciting!

We spent maaaany weekends all summer long sprucing up the barn, with Justin and Alex's help. Do not ask what kind of mess is involved in powerwashing out old stalls. Lots of dirt and cobwebs later, it looked much better. We rebuilt the stairs so they could make their grand entrance in the upstairs window, and made sure it was clean enough to set up food tables.

The day came with lots of sunshine, the tent went up, the food came in, and the bride and groom were married by her father under an arbor framing a beautiful view. So sweet!

My photos don't do it justice, but Erin Lane, their photographer, was fantastic; she gave me permission to link to their post on her blog. So here it is:

​https://erinlanephoto.wordpress.com/2016/10/14/hudson-valley-wedding-alex-justin/

We have a sign!

You have no idea how big a thing this is for me. I've had the sign lurking in my brain for almost a year now, and it's just fallen to the bottom of the to-do list more times than I can count. Funny how that happens. That's why this sign project deserves its own blog entry. It was that long and that complicated.

Here's what we started with:

Pretty, right? I had to put the address out there somehow, so that was the temporary solution. Don't you love how the signpost is leaning back? So cute. What you can't see is that the post is bent at the bottom. also a cute bonus feature. There were several different possible solutions we devised. I had great visions in my head about my lovely roadside sign. All this was compounded by the growing sense of urgency I had regarding getting this whole thing done before we hosted a wedding out at the barn.

Yup, we know what happens when you make plans. Here's our progression.

Plan A: cut off the arm and twisted bracket, build a wooden sleeve around the post, and use an amazing bracket I found at the Bouckville Antiques Week to hold the sign. Great plan, except for the bend in the bottom of the post, which precluded doing that. I really liked Plan A. I even bought the wood and painted it in preparation. I'll use it somewhere else. Move on to Plan B.

Plan B: Pull the post and install a 6x6 wooden post, to which I can affix the aforementioned bracket. But, as it turns out, this post is very deep in the ground, and apparently filled with concrete, at least at the bottom. It was more than Nate and I could manage to pull it out. So we didn't. Move on to Plan C.

Plan C (you see where I'm going with this, right?): Cut the twisted bracket off the arm (thanks to our wonderful contractor, who had a battery-operated saws-all, which he provided so graciously--the driveway is longer than all our extension cords connected together), reset and paint the post, add hooks, and install my sign, eventually adding something as a post cap after the wedding. Plan C was enacted the week of the wedding, with us quickly finishing and hanging the sign the very morning of the wedding. Still not my favorite plan, but here's how it turned out, sign and all.

I am pretty proud of the sign itself, actually. Taking a drawing done by my talented daughter, I followed the format of our business cards and had the design printed twice on an outdoor vinyl banner. I cut it in half and mounted it on a board we put together with our new Kreg, and then we framed it with trim. Up it went, mere hours before the wedding.

It'll do for now. I still dream of the big wooden post with my lovely bracket...

I love flowing water. Oceans, rivers, streams. We hit the jackpot here.

No, we are not on the ocean. I'll save ocean visits for trips to see my sister.

The farm is bordered on the south side by the Susquehanna River, which starts in Cooperstown NY and flows southwest to Bainbridge--check out the Canoe Regatta between the two villages on Memorial Day weekend (http://www.canoeregatta.org/)--and beyond, all the way to the Chesapeake Bay. The Revolutionary war-era history behind it is troubling, but the Regatta brings crowds from all over the state. They paddle to just above our riverfront and land at General Clinton Park. The river floods terribly, including our farm (but not the house or apartment) in really wet years, but this year, no flood. Our farm encompasses two streams heading to the river, one of which we only have the last quarter mile of; the other meanders through the length of the farm, around the house. It's currently very overgrown, and tending to that is high on my list, but low on our abilities to do without a large outlay of cash. Sigh. 

We went walking down to the riverfront a couple of weeks ago, when the paint fumes in the carriage house apartment got to be too much, and the sunshine and balmy temperature were way too tempting. Here's what we saw.

It turns out, we might actually have a little area we can clean up as a "beach." We will have to see if the muddy sand there ever dries out, but that would be fun for picnics. 

I love a river...

One of my favorite things about moving into a new place is discovering what plants are already there (or not-I moved into a place once where there was literally nothing but grass. boring.). We didn't pay a lot of attention here last Spring and Summer, as we were just waiting to see if our contract would go through; then we had all the waiting for paperwork, etc. But now it's ours and we can pay attention!

We had a little Spring false start at the gate in December. See this? It's flowering quince. They don't bloom til actual Spring. These photos were taken on Christmas Day. Crazy.

Fast forward to March. The snowdrops are out, and come to find out, they're legion at the farm. Seriously, they are everywhere.

And then there's the daffodils. These are Ice Follies, I think, and they're right up against the west side of the carriage house.

We walked through the property in late March, and discovered that it's home to lots and lots of pitcher plants, too--green and red, and all sorts of combinations. I don't know the variety, but they are so unusual. They do pop when you accidentally step on them, though.

I cannot wait to see what else pops up as the weather gets warmer. Pretty sure you'll see pics...

Once the sill work had commenced, we turned our attention to the carriage house apartment, which needed some work and love prior to seeking a tenant for it, a paying tenant being necessary to continue the sill work--see how that goes? 

We think the building was built in the 1950s or 60s. The upstairs apartment has two bedrooms, one with a washer and dryer installed over what we would later discover was a heavily water-damaged floor, a kitchen with issues, and a nice-sized living room, and lots of closet space. It has lovely south and west-facing windows (with lots of wasp nests tucked between windows and storms), and oak floors, which in the kitchen was covered by vinyl over some well-worn (out) original linoleum, held down by tarpaper. It had also been occupied by a smoker for years. So, while the bones were great, there was some work to do.

Some pics of our diamond in the rough:

We began work in December, starting with taking out the kitchen cabinets, adding insulation to that wall, and removing the linoleum floor. Gotta say, old lino stinks. Here's Nate and Jake doing some of that work. Every Saturday, every Sunday afternoon. Cooking lino and scraping. Did I mention every Saturday and Sunday in December and January and into Feburary?

The last bit of old floor comes off on February 6--and we've struck oak! That's a grimace, not a smile...it was HARD work

We'll have to show you "after" pics later--we're still not finished with the kitchen. Sigh

Since then, we've had new windows installed (bye-bye wasps), done quite a few minor repair-y things, and a LOT of cleaning, sealing, priming and painting. Nicotene, need I say more. Can't imagine putting that stuff in my lungs. Just sayin'. Every.surface.in.the.apartment. We also made a mid-course correction in the kitchen and had our contractor gut two walls and the ceiling, where condensation had ruined the insulation and drywall. Might as well do it right. 

(Object lesson of the day: Top of door-nicotene removed. Bottom of the door-not.Thus endeth the lesson)

Then we had the floors refinished. Holy amazing oak! See? Don't you want to stare at them forever? I do.​

We have more painting, including the kitchen cabinets, plus a healthy-sized punch list of little things to do, but we're almost ready for a tenant. 

Our lovely house has a sill problem. It’s only one of a host of projects to complete in our restoration, but it was huge, and so it desperately needed to be done. Basically, the sill was built of pine back 185 years ago or so. Time and moisture and the nature of pine beams led to what you see here. The corners sagged, and the sill beam shows its rot and age. 

We called a local contractor who does beautiful work to come rescue it. He grew up with one of the kids of the family, and knows the house. He also appreciates old houses, so we liked him right away.
   
Inside the basement, there were frame walls, a corner barbeque, and a room that still had a dirt floor, all from a much previous start as a finished rec room. Ground seepage from the 2011 flood soaked the wood and insulation and sagged the ceilings and walls, so it all had to go.
 
Getting the new sill in place straightened up the front of the house (breaking a painted-in window, some plaster, and some floorboards in the process). I really can imagine the house as a person taking a sigh of relief at being able to stand up straight again after being hunched over for a long time. Kind of like me, after sitting at my computer all day long…
  
It was an expensive project, which took more of our saved funds than we would like, but it was worth it. Here's some photos of the basement work and the sill-jacking, which was a HUGE job; those were 55,000 lb jacks on top of all that massive cribbing. It looks scarier than it is. At least, that's what they tell me.  
​

We did it! Almost 8 months to the day after putting the contract in, we closed on the farm. It's been a long road, and we know more than we ever did (or wanted to) about surveys (now done) and gas leases (thankfully released) and flood plains (we're not really in one, due to the elevation of the house. This beauty was built in the 1830s in Bainbridge, NY. We have 37 acres bordering on the Susquehanna River, and the house is within the village of Bainbridge, at Exit 8 of I-88. Someday, we will retire, and this is where we will go. Oh, the plans we have...

The house needs extensive work, with a sill replacement first on the list. That list of things we want to do is 4 single-spaced pages long, by the way. We've met a wonderful contractor, who is beginning work on Monday. I look forward to working with him. It turns out he was friends with some of the eight children who were raised in this home by the previous owners, so he knows the house. Actually, it seems like everyone in the area knows the house--the previous owners were veterinarians, and everyone seems to have been a client! If you're reading this and you know the area, yes, it's the Benson house.

The property includes a separate garage/apartment, which we will be fixing up pretty soon, because that income will come in handy. I also have plans for the downstairs garage/clinic space, including education and retreat offerings. There is a barn as well, which needs some new doors, siding and paint, but it seems pretty sturdy. It will serve to dry lavender very well.

The lavender part of the equation will begin Spring 2016. I hope to put in at least half an acre this year. We are planning to manage at least 3 acres eventually. One of the fun plans is to build a lavender labyrinth, but we will wait until after the spring flooding to figure out the exact location.

I have no doubt that this is going to be quite an adventure. I plan to post all our work here, and share the adventure with you. Come back soon...