So, here’s going way back in my life to those free and easy days on the farm Martha chose for her family, the farm portrayed in my upcoming book about her, A PLACE OF HER OWN. In the picture above I’m about five, giving a small curtsy in my overalls, ready for a run on the scooter or a game of rope with the dog.

Maybe my sister and I would catch the old horse and create some elaborate adventure of pioneers and covered wagons with excruciating danger lurking behind every tree. Or we’d run in the fields or the orchard, maybe climb the hill with our dad and check on the lambs, or feel the warmth of the barn on a winter day when he milked the cow.

These are the memories that enrich the roots holding me to a piece of land. Imagine my wonder when I learned of my great-great-grandmother coming here long before me, alone with her children, making a stand right here, starting roots I would later touch. Imagine beauty so stunning, work so exhausting, uncertainties so daunting. How to hold on? How to make it work?

Ah, but in those early days of freedom, the joy of being was enough. Get on the scooter and go.

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