How'd we get here?

If you would have asked me one year ago today if we'd pack up and head to South Dakota to farm with my parents for three months, I would have handed you a 5-gallon bucket of tomatoes, some tongs, and told you, "Umm...no. Now, stop being ridiculous and blanche, baby, blanche."

Because, after all, canning huge quantities of produce is entirely NOT what one does on the farm, right?

Really, we should have seen signs of this coming long ago. Here are the hard facts:

1. Matt has a hunting dog that tracks pheasants better than I track fresh espresso. (On a related note, the pheasant-to-coffee-shop-ratio here is one gazillion to zero. See extreme lamentations in subsequent posts, when the full caffeine addiction subsides; I'm just too shaky to discuss it now.)

2. I consistently cook for thirty. I can't help it--one cup of flour or ten, the end result is the same. I need a huge family. Or a threshing crew.

3. Our kiddos have always made accurate animal noises. Some enunciate "oink" when they are asked what a pig says. Not ours--a true squeal/grunt combo is what you'll get. Same with goats, horses...the whole barnyard.

4. When I replanted much of our garden, I chose all prairie flowers. I didn't give it much thought at the time; those black-eyed susans and purple coneflowers just looked right.

5. Grace has a mild obsession with Black Beauty, and all "brave, bold horses." (The same goes for the color pink, princesses, and glitter. We're not sure where those last three will fit in, but that first one now has some potential.)

6. We've been getting the AgriSource catalog for about a year. It had everything to do with Matt's brewing hobby (something about dairy farms using conical fermenters), but the side effect is that he's bulked up on his basic farm terminology. Booyah.

In short, though we have been a fairly urban family the past decade (shout-out to Trader Joe's here), the transition from city to country may actually be more second-nature than we had assumed!

For our anxious family and friends, our move went quite smoothly. It's not necessarily easy to fit three months' living into one car and one minivan (especially when that three months includes two dogs, a huge kennel, and one hundred pounds of dog food), but we made it work. We found ourselves packing erratically, though, as if we were really leaving for good:

"Do you think I should take my guitar?"
"You haven't played it in eight years. I'm gonna go with 'no.'"
"Really?"
"Really. You know, I think I'm going to throw in my black dress."
"The one you wore on our cruise six years ago? Does it fit you?"
"Ummm...I'll just leave it here." (*Stomp, stomp, stomp.*)

In the end, we likely forgot some key things (those of you trying to call me: my cell phone charger is among those key things), but that just gives us an excuse to visit soon!