Finding Our Places

Just a little path in the woods, or so it would seem to anyone looking for immediate gratification. Winding and buggy, the trail mocks my stupid wedge shoe choice and the bugs bite me, delighted at my absent application of a smelly girl lotion. I can almost hear them buzzing, “Yay! A delicious city idiot girl to feast upon!” Funny, that’s what I’ve been called in the new place I find myself. Probably other things as well but that’s just the way of curious humans. 

Ha. If only they knew, I thought with a smile. Sure, the town I now call my home is quite a bit more rural than here, no traffic lights as opposed to one blinking one, one place for coffee rather than two- and dirt roads are a bit more the norm in Jasper than Youngstown. But they are both little dots that rarely show up on anything but a county map, and that’s fine by me- they’re both my kinda place. 

I’m excited to hopefully have a new address for where I’ve been living with my love for the last month- that way I can surprise my grandmother when she asks, “And just where am I sending your birthday card this year?”

She’s hardly phased when it changes or remains the same. She’s used to my pattern-less pattern of life. Hey, no one gets to live this life as I do, who needs a pattern? 

I continue to pick my way down the path, that slowly opens to a sandy cliff over a small beach beside Four Mile Creek’s outlet into Lake Ontario.  Time to lose the shoes- truly if I could walk my whole life barefoot I would, and often do, skating just on this side of inappropriate settings for no shoes. I’d rather serve myself barefoot than not feel the earth beneath my feet and fit in to places where shoes are a prerequisite. 

Fitting in. Places. I chuckle inwardly at the images and memories that float through my head. I can’t say I’ve always felt I fit in well in new places, but that’s never stopped me from finding them. 

There was a time I was new to these shores that I now sink my toes into, an awkward girl of twenty-one, with the wit of a witch but the street smarts of a toddler, never mind lacking the experiences most girls get through middle and high school. I awkward-ed through those years, still somehow attracting kindred spirits, but never quite feeling “my place” in any of it. 

Then one day, while playing the wallflower desperately desiring to be a diva, I realized something. I could be a shy, invisible person for the rest of my days, or just- you know- try something new. The only failure is never trying, right? So I started just talking to someone- anyone- then everyone. Finding I could make a tired mother laugh, or an old man smile, was one of my greatest realizations in this life. Most of the world is looking for a place to call theirs, and if my presence is where they find it, I’m happy to share moments of love.

Since then I’ve led a squiggle line through life- often jumping off of just-peaking careers or opportunities to tackle a new one. Just settling into a place others thought would be “just perfect” and then venturing out into new unknowns. Call me crazy but you don’t always just quit when you fail, sometimes you see a higher peak from the peak you just climbed that you would have never known about had you never stepped foot to the first one. 

I don't regret any peak, place, or face I’ve encountered on my journey, and I’m fortunate to be able to return to most of them such as this little inlet on the lake and feel right at home. 

It’s not so much about leaving one thing for another, but adding to the places I can call my place in this life. Everywhere I go is my place, I just have to open my arms first to grasp it. 

I have since encountered so many people who tell me they feel out of place in life, and how do I manage my way?

I have no magic answer; I’m currentlyin a new place where I’m known as “city girl” and someone’s girlfriend, but I know I’m slowly becoming known as neighbor, friend, family- Bonnie. It’s a daily choice to fade into the wall or walk right into the center of the dance floor and recognize that everyone just wants a turn to dance with someone who can smile into their face and say, “I see this is your place too, glad to be a part.” 

So my place is actually many other people’s places; it was theirs before, others will come after me and join in place.  This beach is someone else’s special barefoot cove, and I’m happy to make my place among others who can find room in their hearts for a wayward soul such as mine. 

Are You All In?

Things are moving fast. And then they aren’t. But I’m part of a team that’s in constant forward motion and that’s all that matters. In the future I’d like to avoid forward motion during deer-a-palooza in Steuben County with a new car but some things are unavoidable.  Venison anyone?

The important thing is that no matter what life throws at us (or what dumb mammals jump out in front of us), our stride is wide and in step with each other in this life we’ve chosen to embark on together. And there are some wide strides we need to match sometimes. To put things in perspective for you he’s got three vacation scenarios planned away from our farm that is still technically in the planning stages. 

But that’s ok because he’s a big picture man and I

love me a big picture man. There are often multiple frames in view, but they are all part of the big picture. And big pictures take one hundred percent commitment. I can remember one of the first times I started getting worried and upset over the little steps between the big dreams he stopped me and said- I’m all in. Are you? 

For a dream this big and multi-faceted, it takes a 100% all in dedicated team, and the question is: 

Are you all in when the messy boxes of life need to be unpacked and sorted?

Are you all in when step two needs to happen before step one, because all that really matters is that we keep moving forward, despite all the neatly penned notes and plans? 

Are you all in when your partner just needs you to stop whatever you’re doing and cushion their exhausted fall, and hear you say, don’t worry, something will come up. 

We’ve both fallen into other peoples dreams and given every ounce of our energy only to find out those dreams were not only not our own, but not even fully committed to by the people we dedicated our time to. But this time is different. His dreams are my dreams, his burdens my burdens, we walk hand in hand together towards a sunset we create. And I’m all in. 

The first time he said the words I love you, I can’t deny I felt a flutter- but I’d heard those words before- and while I have no doubt every speaker meant the words, their love never reached the standard of what I considered it to mean. 

I needed to know that this man’s love met my definition. Love to me is a way of life. An art that must be practiced and grown in every day. I was brought up being taught that God is love- the very creator and pinnacle of our existence IS the essence of this word-how can it be anything other than a transcendent, all-consuming and fulfilling life experience? Anything less to me is man’s cheap imitation. When it comes to love and dreams he’s the cockiest idealist I know, matched only by my own ideals- and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

We met on a dating site. My profile opened with the words “Not girlfriend material.” He told me when he read those words he thought to himself “challenge accepted” and he definitely met the challenge. But it was true. I wasn’t girlfriend material. I wasn’t after what the 99% considered a relationship. I wanted a lifelong companion, but even this Word’s definition has been dulled in contemporary culture. 

I wanted someone to take life risks with- no safety nets but each others’ arms. I wanted to dream big and then do big, every single day. I wanted a love that was 100%- word, thought, deed- anything less and I wasn’t interested. 

Love was a lifelong art that I would always be growing to understand and practice better, and I wanted a partner with the same perspective. 

This isn’t a 9-5 job, it’s not an experience I’ll ever want a break from, it’s an all-consuming life companionship with intertwined life dreams and minute to minute actions that take us there together. And yes, I’m all in. 

Barefoot Journey, Heartfelt Home

 I haven't written a blog post yet this year. Oh I've written aplenty in the last three months: journal entries, feverish notebook pages filled with thoughts and plans and dreams. Budgets and lists and notes scattered around my room. None of it is irrelevant, even if some of the words just remain penned thoughts. For I can say that one thing I have learned to live: The journey is the journey. I'm unconcerned with destinations. Success to me is a life lived to my utmost heart-strength. I have written this blog for approximately four years now, with ebbs and flows in my step. If you were ever looking for a woman with a definitive, linear path, this is certainly not the story to follow. 

Now, I find myself poised for a turn in my journey that might appear off-track on the surface. Let me explain. In the next month or so, I will be moving to the NY/PA border to live and work on a farm in partnership (on multiple levels) with someone I can truly say is meant to be a part of my journey. I've been drafting this post in my head for this whole month since I met him. It isn't all that complicated really; I fell in love with a farmer. I met someone who shares my life dream. What else can I do but follow my heart with these bare feet to a place that feels like home?

I began this blog almost four years ago while living on a farm with a dear friend. The original name was Baking, Beekeeping, and Barefoot Gardening- my three dearest hobbies at the time. Other than a lapse in being able to keep bees, that hasn't changed. I explored ways to farm on that land; the timing wasn't right. I took a leap of faith and left my federal job to open my gardening service, a move I will never regret. I had a wild and passionate dream to open a coffee shop/bakery/farm co-op in Arcade which due to circumstances out of my control, I had to abandon- for the time being. I found a farm training program to attend for Veterans, and met the most wonderful group of farmer Vets that I am now grateful to call family. While there, I felt as a single person I was not in an ideal position to farm alone. Now, I will say this: if Bonnie sets her heart to something she CAN do anything, but I truly did not want to farm alone. Farming to me is about family, community, and working together on the land for a shared purpose. Most of the joy derived is from the efforts and time spent with other like-minded people working towards a common goal. 

So I decided my best course of action, or what was originally called Plan B, was to help my Veteran farmer friends on their farms until maybe someday, I found my place in the farming world. Thus, the Van Plan was born. I would travel to Veteran farms, blog about them, offer content writing, tell their stories, work on their farms, and help bring them together through my journey. This plan has been in the planning stages for 2+ years. I took a loan out in 2019 to have cash on hand to buy a short bus at an auction when the right one came along. After sifting through many road-weary buses, and heeding the advice of mechanic friends and my ex-husband who is a truck driver, I shifted focus to buying a van. Then, the pandemic hit. My life wasn't much affected, but Van Life would have been extremely difficult in 2020, and I am grateful I didn't pull the trigger last year. 

This winter I worked my tail off in 3+ jobs to save money for the van. The down payment money is sitting in my savings account. The goal was at the start of landscaping season where I would be pulling a heftier paycheck I would buy the van and begin buildout, when I would have cash flow for payments and building materials. This summer I could live in a semi-built van and take short trips as the work progressed. As is normal, distractions came and went, yet I remained focused. This was the dream, the journey, and I was all but in the driver's seat. 

Enter Kellen. Yes, I'll put his name right in here, unlike past posts where I would talk about a figure in my life without revealing identity. Why? Because they were transient I know in my heart he is part of my journey. I have no doubts this is where I am meant to journey. It happened fast, which if you know me is nothing unusual. One day I'm at a desk, the next I'm leasing and tearing apart an old building to open a store. One moment I am journeying alone ready to travel the country in a van, the next I find myself in love and on my way to a place that feels like home. My best friend says that she cannot go too log without talking to me otherwise she will have too much to catch up on in Bonnie World. I have been affectionately called a vagrant, and I'm sure less than affectionately called similar terms to describe a life few understand. No matter: I believe life is meant to be lived to the fullest, and as I find passions and opportunities that call my heart, I listen and follow. This is the barefoot journey. I feel the life-earth through barefoot living and follow where I'm called. While it is true that I have led a rather transient life for most of my adult years, I was pleasantly surprised to hear my mother voice who I truly am when I called to tell her I was moving to live and love a farmer and the van plan was on permanent hold: a soul that seeks to be grounded and close to the earth and a place I can call home.

I want to farm. I want to tend the earth. I want to have a family and community that I tend with all my heart and soul. This includes my veteran farmer friends, and I will continue to pursue my mission to tell their farm stories. I still have plans to travel to veteran farms to network, help, and write. I also hope to someday be able to open my doors to farm friends as part of the plan as well. Maybe there will be a van, but know this- whether we see it clearly or not, or even understand it right now, there is always, always a plan. 

In conclusion, I will continue this blog, for its purpose has never changed. Neither, truly, has mine. I have been on a journey to find home, to find my place, a place where I can live out my life-passions for both myself and my community. And I can hear quite clearly, the farm calling my bare feet home.