What does it take to make a place feel like home? When I first looked at this farm (Summer, 1975) I fell in love with it, dreamed about it, wanted to own it. And here I am now, sitting in my favorite meadow, determined to begin enjoying this property and wondering why it’s taken me so long. I am beset by mosquitoes. I hear a VEERY singing in the distance. My cat, Hussy, followed me over here and is sitting next to me as I write. The grass has grown up and will need to be mowed if I want to keep this meadow open. Can I create my own little world here and be proud enough to write about it and share it with others?