The farmhouse stands in the middle of it all, or perhaps just in the middle of my universe here at Orchard Hill. Fire engine red walls house the interior of a building that was constructed almost exclusively for community. Or so I've decided.
If I stay here long enough I imagine my life as a time lapse video with streams of people coming in and out for pot luck dinners, yoga classes, homeschool programs, and the occasional viewing of a documentary. Dogs and cats find a way to coexist here, children can be found screaming around the snow-covered apple orchards like only five year olds know how, and the house continues to stand quietly, patiently, with a hint of a smile every time a new traveler places their feet down on the welcome mat.
For the time being, I feel at home here. Grateful for the new voices that fill the farmhouse each day and for the quiet pre-sunrise mornings where the ticking of the old, faded, clock is the only sound that echoes through the house.