Farm Fresh Blog

There is so much to tell you!

I took the Arapaho way, turned my back on last week and said, "It is finished." (That is amazingly calming by the way, you should try it.)  Anyway, all the way through this ordeal, I've had faith that God would lead me to a much better place. Even as doubts whispered, "You're gonna lose your farm and your dream ranch will already have been sold to someone else," I held tight to the faith that if that were the case, an even better ranch was waiting in my future.

Guess what!

My ranch was still there! I grudgingly promised to look at another ranch in the area before we put money down on My Ranch.  (waste of time) The other ranch was set up for cattle, offered good hunting, and had a building that we could actually live in while building a house. But . . . it wasn't my ranch, and even as I drove around it, I knew it, and was impatient to go see My Ranch again. 

After wasting way too much time at the other place (i.e. setting foot on it), we arrived at My Ranch. (let me take a moment to explain that the other ranch was very beautiful and most people would LOVE to have it, but it wasn't The One and I knew it. I had a Dream for 6 months. I knew what I wanted. Looking at anything else was a waste of time.)

The sun was beginning to creep down as I climbed in the back of the mule and we drove off to take another look at the ranch I've dreamed of for the last 6 months.  It's wild. It's remote. It's beautiful. It's mine.

A tremendous peace washed over me. I was home.  

It's not only beautiful, it's full of history. This was an old Indian settlement (complete with graves) at the base of a mountain. A creek runs through it that supported them. The property had game and water. They settled here and raided the local settlers. (trespassers) A fort was built to the north to protect the settlers from the Indians. The creek has washed up artifacts and bones.

Apparently hunters stumbled upon these and fearing a crime scene, brought in authorities who identified the bones as ancient. The Native Americans said to leave the washed up bones where you find them to allow them to continue their journey. Works for me.

I thought about all this as I rode through it again and let the place soak into me. I need this place. This place needs me. It is a piece of history. It needs protection. It needs someone who will appreciate its wild beauty and not see it as a resource for stripped timber, oil, and future ranchettes. I can take care of this place. This place can take care of me.

The realtor asked, "Do you want to sleep on it overnight and let me know something tomorrow?"

I barely glanced back at him. "No."

He asked again.

"I want it."

"Don't you want to sleep on it overnight."

(stupid question)

"I've slept on it many nights already."

Finally Other Half said, "If this is what she wants, then we'll get it. Let's start the paperwork."

And so it was that I signed my name, threw the money from the sale of my little farm at him, and bought a dream.

Barring any complications, we close at the end of January.