This summer while visiting the farm, I headed up the long field road to my brother’s house.  It is pretty hard going uphill and I found myself concentrating on my feet and the baby on my back.  When I got to the top I turned around.  The view of the fields, some fallow and some freshly harvested, slopping down, trees on all sides and mountains rolling away into the distant horizon is awe-inspiring.

I recall that this part of Pennsylvania is a gentle section of the strong Appalachia.  What I see before me is childhood, promise and wonder for me.  It holds memories from most of my lifetime.  Down to the left and up a tree is where I sat in a stand reading Hemingway my first deer season.  I remember driving the tractor when the kicker broke on the bailer and a storm was coming, Ben and my dad picking up bales and throwing them into the wagon behind me.  Right in the center was where Matt and I dreamed of being married with an aisle and room mowed into the tall grass, before deciding instead to go to a JP.

And I recollect that delicious smell of birch bark scrapped from a tree by my father’s pocket knife at the fields’ edge.  And even though I am this family’s keeper of good memories, I can also remember some predator-feeding chicken raising and bumps with the farm-truck.

Now my brother owns the top of this hill, the forest behind me.  He has expanded the family farm, something my father loves since he believes in Land.  All the kids picked berries along the rich divide between field and forest, got some poison-ivy and I got to remember.  And my brother has made this view his kitchen window, seeing it each morning as he rounds up the cows and again as he steps out of the shop at the end of the day.

This view has become Kate’s now for almost 10 years.  I think I will call a family meeting to order.  I wonder what each member will recall of this sight, this place so different in each season.  This earth, sloping away from me now binds us together.

My contemplations of Earth Day and all things “green” always relate to “a place.” Where did it come from?  Who made it? What was used to make it?  There is so much beauty in knowing where things came from and who made them.

To that end, we’re occasionally going to share pics of “our place.” Our place is a rural hill-top in Pennsylvania. At the top is our house [we built in 4 stages] in recently logged woods and adjacent to the Gatski family farm. You get to the top by traveling a 1/2 mile long driveway. It is a peaceful place, with nearly no neighbors in sight. Aside from our creative pursuits – the animals [and a couple children] keep us well occupied. Also, nestled quietly here are Ben’s dream to milk more cows (and make cheese) and Kate’s dreams to write well about “food & place.” Happy Earth Day!

notes on pics:  that is an older photo of Ben & I [we bought a 1947 Plymouth at a local farm sale not long after meeting]- our humble home- the long driveway [and field roads- it's amazing how far you can get around here without going on a public road], one of our Berkshire pigs and our new calf Racer.