The Valley

We took a drive to check the crops on the 95 acre parcel of land we purchased from my husband’s parents. As our pickup truck ever so slowly maneuvers over the bumpy field terrain, my husband is looking to the ground, seeing the small plants just appearing, almost overnight. Scrutinizing the soybeans and corn, his eyes are like a microscope as he looks for the tiniest hint of weeds.

My eyes are not looking to the ground. I look up and see the beautiful valley in front of me. The valley is overwhelmingly green with a forest of tall hardwood trees surrounding it from all three sides. Where the hills meet the flat, tiny corn and soybeans plants are emerging from the soil, just starting to make the rows that wind around the bend and over the knolls. Separating the two fields from each other is a narrow road, flanked on the right with a pond which stays filled with water with runoff from the hills. Deer and other wildlife are abundant. The valley is beautiful - just about as close to God as one can get here on earth.

As we drive along the field road my thoughts retreat to thirty years before, when his family was actively farming this same land, spending many hot summer days baling and chopping hay, when the cattle grazed in the nearby pastures and the hustle and bustle of the busy farm life wore his family ragged – in a good way. They were hard times, but they were good times. We didn’t notice the beauty of the valley then - we were too busy. But memories were made from those times – children grew up, had families of their own and have since moved off the farm. My husband’s parents have just sold the last piece of the home farm – the house, barns and outbuildings. There is no hustle and bustle here anymore. Left now is just the immense peace and quiet, the beauty … and the memories.

Although my husband isn’t looking at what I am looking at on our drive today, I know that deep down in his heart he sees the same beauty of the valley, and treasures the memories made here.