One full year at Wittbrich Acres

Do you think it sounds trite to say in the last 12 months, I’ve learned to live? Not in the sense of breathing and loving and taking nourishment, but in the sense of being. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say I’ve learned to live every day differently…completely, freely, gratefully, peacefully.

Twelve months ago when we uprooted our simple suburban lifestyle, Mike and I weren’t sure what we had signed up for. All we really knew was that we had embarked on another new adventure, one of many we’ve undertaken in our lives together. And like many of them, we weren’t sure where this one would lead or what revelations it held in store. Looking back, I can clearly say that all the excitement and wonder of our early days here have not left us, and every day we continue to wake up filled with gratitude, peace, and harmony, the three mainstays of our life at Wittbrich Acres. In fact, there have been days in the last year that we both believe would have been much more difficult to get through if we didn’t have our personal retreat we’ve created here.

Seasons of Growth and Gratefulness

A mentor once told me that in any new job you really needed to go through four seasons, a whole year, before you really could say you learned the nuances of a role and the positional ebbs and flows. I always found that bit of wisdom helpful when embarking on a new role in my professional life and gave myself grace for not knowing everything all at once. It also transfers well to non-professional roles.

In the last year, I’ve found myself giving me a whole lot of grace for the many, many things I did not know. And today I am so grateful for how far I’ve come in my learning and to the many people who have helped me on my path so far. I have learned so much and I’ve done things in the last year I never imagined doing. My mind, body, and spirit have been tested beyond previous limits. I’ve flexed my creativity, ingenuity, and muscles in exciting, exhausting new ways.

I’ve learned that even gross jobs, undertaken with great love, don’t seem all that disgusting. The thought of spending time gently bathing dirty chicken butts never ranked  on my must-do list, but my hens let me know in their own tender ways they appreciate it. And if they can be grateful for that small thing, I certainly can be grateful for the many big things I am blessed to have. Mud (and other things!) washes out of clothes and from under fingernails and a few bugs in the house doesn’t mean it’s dirty, it means they’re looking for a warm, dry place to hang out just like humans do.

The Beauty in Sacrifice

I’ve learned that as in all things there are hardships and sacrifices. There are things I no longer have time to do as I once did. My paint brushes are dry more often than wet now and my sewing machine is collecting cobwebs more than castoff threads. For the first summer in years, I didn’t play golf at least once a week. In fact, I played a total of 27 holes all season. Mike and I didn’t take our flying trip to tour the Civil War Battlegrounds as we had planned before our move. My grands have learned that a trip to grammy’s now includes chores in addition to play time (which they don’t really seem to mind too much!).

I’ve learned to ask for help when I need safety lessons for using a zero turn mower, a table or chop saw, or a nail gun. Son-of-my-heart, Jason comes to my rescue without making me feel like I am bothering him (even though I know I am). I’d like to say those days are over, but I (and he) know better. I’ve been blessed with four sons, all of whom bring their unique skills to aid me in my new lifestyle. I’m sure in the quiet of their own homes they still shake their heads and question why I’ve taken all this on, especially when I could be easing into retirement and eventual older age. But that never keeps them from chipping in and lending a hand whenever the chicken signal lights the night sky over Wittbrich Acres.

I’ve made peace with stink bugs, mice, spiders and various other country critters. I’ve discovered that live-trapping a racoon requires a 30-mile round trip to relocate them so they don’t return. I’ve said goodbye to a manicured lush green grass lawn and hello to one that offers dandelion bee food in spring and clover in summer. Sleeping in is a luxury reserved for…well, never. My body has adjusted to “rooster hours” and hearing Colonel, Norman and Bingo every morning starts my day on a musical note (even if a little off-key).

Finding Joy in the Messy and the Meaningful

I learned I could capture a swarm of honey bees from a friend’s tree and give them a great home here with us. They in return contributed to a honey harvest of more than 90 pounds of liquid love that I also had to learn how to extract. I’ve canned pears, apples, tomatoes, raspberries, and elderberries. I’ve made salves and teas from dried wildflowers. I’ve sweated more and gotten dirtier than I have since I was a child, and probably loved it more. I’ve tromped through mud and sticker bushes galore, been bee stung more times than I can count, hefted fifty-pound bags of feed with increasing ease, and shoveled a whole lot of s*#t! (pardon my country language)!

I’ve learned to love picking apples in the quiet still of morning, pausing to listen to birdsongs, praying while plucking weeds from an otherwise failed garden, and taking those weeds and finding a useful purpose for them. I’ve read more, researched more, written more, and entertained more than I have in a decade. I wake up every morning ready to live fully even though I’ve come to accept that more often than not, I don’t know how my day will play out. I’ve also learned that my once completely planned, ordered existence has gone the way the of the buggy whip. Now I live in what has become more of an ordered chaos and my skills at pivoting (which often looks more like lurching) through my day are becoming quite adept. My house is a little less clean than my previous one, my previous manicured lawn is no longer, birthday cards are late in getting mailed, and I’m a bit behind in most things, but my home is filled with the important stuff that truly matters…peace, gratitude, harmony. And I’d add happiness, love, and grace to that list.

I’ve enjoyed learning from many of you! The comments, suggestions, books, articles, gifts, and encouragements I’ve received have helped more than I can say. I appreciate every piece of advice and wisdom. I also am beginning to understand what’s behind the kind, knowing smiles and hugs I get from those of you who have walked this path in your own lives 🙂

A Life Reimagined

A year ago, I started writing this column by saying I was eager to see what Wittbrich Acres would reveal to me and what I would learn from this adventure. I knew it would be substantial. I didn’t know that in all the important lessons that were in store, the most significant one would be that even in these later years of my life, it wasn’t too late for me to find an incredibly fulfilling new way to live…differently and wonderfully.

Peace, harmony, and gratitude to all of you. Thank you for coming along for this first year of tales from Wittbrich Acres.