a wrinkle in time

Time passes differently out here on this beautiful piece of Virginia land.

At home I feel as if my days run to this rhythm: Breakfast. Let’s do chores/errands/games/crafts/school. Wait – what? It’s lunch already? Okay, now let’s play/create/read/clean. Oh goodness, why haven’t I started dinner yet? Want to play a game/take a walk/feed the pets? Good grief, it’s already past bed time. Where did this day go?

Cresting the slight hill and pulling into this sloping long-laned driveway must allow you to descend somehow into a wrinkle in time.

Here the days move to a rhythm more like this: Waking to the sun. Alarms (all six) turned off. Slow breakfast with a little extra noise with Framily cousins (should we call them frousins?) and pancakes and bacon and laughter and yawns. Gator rides/pond walks/time in the barn with Papa Dale/sand box playing/Lego creating/long chat having. Is it lunch yet? Oh, good – another hour to play. Post lunch quiet long afternoon. Naps for the littles. More playing. What? Only 3:00? Let’s start another game. Dinner chaos. Homemade ice cream in two varieties. Slow sun setting across the field. What a long, slow day it’s been.

I’d like my days at home to feel a lot more like my days at the farm.

I think Slow Time is a gift.

Long days require a conscious decision to say no to so much This and That.

Farm Time is a choice.

One made easier by the lack of Internet and phone service.

Yikes! What if I’ve just found both my culprit and my solution?

See what farm living does to one’s brain?