Lost & Found

“The fear of loss cannot outweigh the joy of life.” – Lana Linhart

My little hiatus from blogging wasn’t planned. Life, living, the heat, oh God the beloved heat, and the sunshine – they swooped down like a red-tailed hawk and swept me clear away. They say it takes winter to appreciate summer, bad times to make the good times sing, and heartache to know when the heart is full. I can’t argue with they but I do think I detoured into the wild of my own mind this past winter, losing – almost completely – the feeling of sweet joy, of anything at all being effortless.

And of course I threw myself a few punches for taking it all for granted, sometimes having to actually say these words aloud: you have legs and arms and a beating heart, legs, arms, beating heart, legs and arms and a beating heart. It seems silly to even think of this now, sitting on my back porch, bare skin to the sun, sprinklers ticking their way across the infinite acres before me. It’s a dream, heaven here on earth.

This morning I woke before Chris and stumbled out into the sunlight straight from bed. The chickens, all grown now, were chasing bugs and paired up, exploring. The horses and goats came trotting to the fence to greet me and stayed a while, Lucy letting me kiss her on the nose the way she always does. However silly it may seem, I’ve learned that in order to be truly found, you have to get a little lost.

On a morning like today’s, several weeks ago, I was scrolling through Instagram and came across a photo on the Women Who Farm page of a woman and a goat, the text was a story of loss and it nearly brought me to tears, hitting too close to home to this lifestyle. The last sentence was this one: “Because at the end of the day, the fear of loss cannot outweigh the joy of life.” These were the words I needed months ago, as a reminder that joy will always tip the scale, always.

So here we are, 10 days out from summer, I’m about to marry my best friend in less than two weeks, completely lovesick with the sun and heat, horsing around and holding tight to these words from Lana.



A barn of our own, almost complete.


Trip 2, wasted hay.


“Can I get in?” #getinthelift


I think he was always a cowboy.



The love, oh the love.


Willoughby, being his usual flirty self.


Future Mr. & Mrs.!


The original “baby”. My sweet Raven.


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