West Virginia, take me home

I woke up to a text asking if I needed my potato patch tilled up again. Yes I do, and I can't believe I don't have them in the ground yet.
Then I got confirmation that there's now a mandatory manager meeting once a week for work to be conducted on horseback. Sweet! When I pitched the idea, I didn't think it actually would get approved. That pretty much solidifies that my job is awesome.

The afternoon was spent putting apple trees in the ground, sampling barrels and tanks and saying -what the hell is wrong with that-, and then melting into an evening of tables and chairs all filled up with tables covered with sandwiched plates and wine glasses that kept going empty only to get filled again. The music was this beautiful guitar player from West Virginia and despite being grossly overpaid, he was actually rather enjoyable to listen to. It is hard to not think that all the money I've tried to save in the kitchen or all the bottles I'm pushing hard to sell, all that effort gets wasted on some overpaid guitarist that no one is listening to, no matter how good he is.

The nights have a chill that require a heater still and the days are filled with dogs chasing squirrels into trees (squirrels can really hold grudges!) and sheep grazing on the lush, spring pastures among the grapevines. The lambs are getting huge and I'm gently settling myself back into the lush, green lull of Ohio. I haven't been to a veggie auction yet, but the greenhouse is filled and screaming for water two times a day and the weather has been perfect for doing my late spring dance of planting tender nightshades and wondering if they'll be massacred by the one last frost.

I can't help it now, but on my drive home I look at every exit and think -if I lived there, I'd be home by now. I'm looking at a small apartment on the upper east side where the Akron crime map didn't have a bunch of character burglers, fists, guns, or handcuffs and they allow dogs. I'm not sure my pup is going to transition well from her pond jumping, squirrel chasing, sheep herding, and chicken guarding life into the upper east side of Akron very well, but I think she likes me and hope that love conquers all.

I can't believe that six months ago I was looking for bottle baby calves to keep at High Mill. And now I'm leaving this place that I've spent so much time building the soil, building fences, planting trees... Am I just a terribly irrational, impulsive person? What the hell am I doing?

Jason is talking about moving to the west coast. The idea is appealing and terrifying at the same time. I think, wow, I've never lived outside of Ohio for more than a couple months here or there. That would be interesting to try. But another part of me gets homesick just thinking about it. I love to travel, but I also love to have a home.