animal kingdom / DAILY FARM LIFE / family / LIVING WELL / out and about

a day like this

that sky

Saturday afternoon, Dan headed over to my Grandpa Sayre's farm to chop
and split some wood. He took Mary and Emma with him. When Elizabeth
woke up from her nap, she was heartbroken, that everyone had gone to
Grandpa's without her. So we jumped in the car together and headed
over.

We got there, just as the first hints of nightfall were arriving. The
sun was leaving it's warming golden glow on every hillside and slipping
between the trees.

changing

I'm so glad I thought to throw the camera in the front seat of the
car with me because I couldn't even make it up Grandpa's long driveway
without having to pull over and take a few photographs.

When we finally pulled into the house, I could hear the chain saw,
but couldn't see Dan anywhere. Down over the steep back hill, I found
him slowly taking apart a downed Ash tree.

WH farm

Elizabeth and I started the hike over the hill, knowing (and
thankful) that we could get a ride back to the top in the truck. The
girls met us from behind a few strides down the hill–they'd been down
in the barn, jumping in the corn and checking out the cows.

WH farm 2

When Dan finished, and we finally got back up to Grandpa's house, he
came out to say goodbye. We stood there for a long time, the girls
playing in the back of the truck, Grandpa and Dan talking about
property lines, woodburners, farming and politics.

talking property lines and tractors

And I stood back, making sure no one toppled out of the truck bed and
soaking in the scenery as the light changed from golden yellow to deep
blues, to pink, to dark purple. 

in the western sky

At one point I stood with the sun setting at one shoulder, the moon reaching into the sky at the other.

in the eastern sky

It was remarkable.

where he sits

Grandpa told the girls how, on nights like this, he comes out to
those chairs and watches the clouds and waits for the deer to come out
of the woods. And how just a few nights ago, he counted 37.

Some light rain finally chased us home–dirty children, a tired, sore and hungry husband.

driving in 2

As I pulled out of the driveway, waving to my girls sitting three across in the truck, all I could think was how blessed I
am, we are. To have places like this to come to. To have views like
this to cherish. To have people like Grandpa to share stories with and
love. To have strong bodies to do work. Warm homes to protect us in
bitter cold. And a place like this, and people like you to mark the
moment, and share those feelings of fullness and contentment that come
at the end of a day like this.

that sky

Saturday afternoon, Dan headed over to my Grandpa Sayre's farm to chop
and split some wood. He took Mary and Emma with him. When Elizabeth
woke up from her nap, she was heartbroken, that everyone had gone to
Grandpa's without her. So we jumped in the car together and headed
over.

We got there, just as the first hints of nightfall were arriving. The
sun was leaving it's warming golden glow on every hillside and slipping
between the trees.

changing

I'm so glad I thought to throw the camera in the front seat of the
car with me because I couldn't even make it up Grandpa's long driveway
without having to pull over and take a few photographs.

When we finally pulled into the house, I could hear the chain saw,
but couldn't see Dan anywhere. Down over the steep back hill, I found
him slowly taking apart a downed Ash tree.

WH farm

Elizabeth and I started the hike over the hill, knowing (and
thankful) that we could get a ride back to the top in the truck. The
girls met us from behind a few strides down the hill–they'd been down
in the barn, jumping in the corn and checking out the cows.

WH farm 2

When Dan finished, and we finally got back up to Grandpa's house, he
came out to say goodbye. We stood there for a long time, the girls
playing in the back of the truck, Grandpa and Dan talking about
property lines, woodburners, farming and politics.

talking property lines and tractors

And I stood back, making sure no one toppled out of the truck bed and
soaking in the scenery as the light changed from golden yellow to deep
blues, to pink, to dark purple. 

in the western sky

At one point I stood with the sun setting at one shoulder, the moon reaching into the sky at the other.

in the eastern sky

It was remarkable.

where he sits

Grandpa told the girls how, on nights like this, he comes out to
those chairs and watches the clouds and waits for the deer to come out
of the woods. And how just a few nights ago, he counted 37.

Some light rain finally chased us home–dirty children, a tired, sore and hungry husband.

driving in 2

As I pulled out of the driveway, waving to my girls sitting three across in the truck, all I could think was how blessed I
am, we are. To have places like this to come to. To have views like
this to cherish. To have people like Grandpa to share stories with and
love. To have strong bodies to do work. Warm homes to protect us in
bitter cold. And a place like this, and people like you to mark the
moment, and share those feelings of fullness and contentment that come
at the end of a day like this.

26 comments on “a day like this”

  1. oh, absolutely gorgeous! thank you so much for sharing. now only if i could go there for vacation, i don’t even care where it is….. : )

  2. Thanks for that. It is just like my in-laws farm in western PA. Most evenings are like that – the light quality and all. We spent this evening walking an old farm donated to our county this evening and had mental images just like yours…

  3. What a beautiful moment, pictures, too! Isn’t it wonderful having family, watching the night creep up, and waiting for the deer to come out! You are one blessed mom!

  4. What a delicius moment in time…. I felt it through your description… you are truly blessed, and more so because you appreciate it. Thank you for sharing this special moment in time.

  5. Ah the colors of dusk…you captured it so beautifully, as well as the beautiful moments spent with your family as the day turns to night. Thanks for sharing!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.