Lately the world seems to be spinning out of control. The constant barrage of bad news makes me want to escape to a time and place far removed from today.
Looking through photos inherited from my in-laws I found a shot of my husband's grandparents' place. I know from family stories that this was a place of wonderful Independence Day celebrations and every day family dinners. The family connection to this place ended years before I knew them, but I can't help but long for this old farmhouse just the same.
Though my longing has no basis in the reality of personal experience what I love about a farmhouse is incredibly clear in my mind. A farmhouse is honest. It is filled with quirky things, found objects and family heirlooms. High end furnishings are nowhere to be found, farmers are too practical to sink their money into material things meant to impress. A farmhouse isn't trendy. Farmers aren't concerned with what others find appealing. They know what they like, and it is often different than what the crowd likes. It is comfortable, because farmers work hard and need a soft place to land at the end of the day. It is welcoming, because neighbors may be few and far between, but they are there when you need them. Uncomplicated, unpretentious. Worn, but not worn out. A farmhouse sees a lot of family traffic because it is a warm haven where people are happy to sit awhile.
Today, more than any other time in my life, I wish I had a farmhouse to retreat to. I would settle into an overstuffed chair with a warm cup of tea and keep the troubles of the day at a safe distance if only for a while.