Although our piece of land is small, it is still the one we have attached our hearts to. A year ago we were mourning leaving our old home, and the land there that we had brought to fruitful bounty. We were hopeful about our new home, and about our new baby on the way.
Now we are once again moving. With the garden in full bloom and full of the promise of a ripe harvest. By October those tomatoes will be glorious. And we will be gone. I am hoping that our landlord will allow me to come back and harvest them. They are, after all, tomatoes that I started from seed this past February.
All this love, all this effort, all my planning for a bountiful fall and winter garden. For a full pantry and a freezer stocked with beans and squash. All of it must be put on hold. Must be transferred. I’m sad but trying not to feel defeated. Trying to still believe in loving the land I live on, wherever it might be. It is just hard when we wanted so badly to stay and keep improving the house, the land, our lives, and the way we lived on the land and in the house.
And so we look. We search Craig’s List. We tell friends to keep an eye out for rental signs. 60 days.
We leave for a pre-planned vacation in two weeks. We are hoping to secure our next home in the next two weeks. Here’s to hoping.