Defining Moments

They say only living for the future makes you miss life. I have tried not to do that. On our five acres in Madera, we worked like dogs, making an oasis out of thin topsoil and hardpan.

 

 

I made up my mind to pay attention when the kids were little, but I was probably pretty useless. Ruth did the heavy lifting.

 

I grew up in a canyon on land that had ups and downs.

We lost that place in 1964 to eminent domain, and I can’t go back and look at the old house or visit my childhood trampings.

When in Southern California, I go back to my canyon and it is mentioned in each of the four books I have in the works.

There were always times when I looked in mountainous areas, thinking of a place, perhaps to regain my childhood wanderings. I have never been interested in the sights of national parks because there is no chance of owning a piece of ground there. We have driven the back roads of Morgan Hill, the mountains of New Mexico, the north coast, Sutter Creek, all the while, looking for a spot. Then we got serious and spent seven years actively looking.

On a foggy January morning, in Madera, Ruth found an old stone house online. We were in Colfax the next morning, looked for two hours, said a prayer, and signed the papers.

We waited and waited for the “short sale” to be completed. On June 2, 2011, we got our keys. This morning we looked at pictures of the changes in this place.

In my dreaming and in my waking, I did not conceive of such a place. It is green with blue-blue skies today, and I am paying attention.