I sat down for a while on an Adirondack chair under the century-old Norway spruce trees behind our house. I watched my husband come out the front door of the shop, apparently talking to someone who was standing just inside the door. Don’s hand gestures were large and generous, sometimes waving my direction and sometimes swinging this way and that. I found it interesting, but not interesting enough to get up and see what the discussion was all about.

The guest finally left and I discovered it was an Amish man. I called to Don and he came over and joined me under the trees.

“What was that all about?” I asked.

“Remember the young Amish man who said he was getting married in three weeks and he wanted our farm?” Of course I remembered!

“That was two years ago,” I said.

“Well, it must have been longer ago than that because he now has three children.”

“Okay, then, it was three years ago,” I agreed. “But what was that all about?”

“He still wants our farm. He’ll buy it now and let us have life use of the house.” I nearly laughed. Don’s one grandfather lived to be 96 years old and the other one, 99 years old. This young man will himself be a grandfather before he gets the use of our house, if Don lives as long as his grandfathers.

My parents never owned a house. When I got married, Don and I moved from one rental place to another with the owners always keeping close tabs on us. At one point we moved in with his parents! Finally we had the chance to buy this farm, complete with woods, rich garden soil and an artisan well. We have raspberries, apples, pears, rhubarb, black raspberries and the promise of other kinds of fruits from newly planted trees. We have all the vegetables we have the energy to raise and freeze.

Of course the young man wants our farm. So do I! He says he’s wanted it ever since he first saw it. So did I. He thinks he and his wife can be happy here. So can I!

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