With the exception of a brief stint between ages 14 and 22, I have worn glasses since I was 5 years old.
Never in that time, have I worn what are commonly referred to as "Transitions Lenses." These are the types of lenses that automatically transition from a normal sense to a polarized sunglasses-type lens when you go from indoor lighting to outdoor lighting.
I know there is some sciency thing behind it, but my observation on them has been this.
The don't work very well
Invariably what happens is that for a period after coming in from the outside, the lenses are still in 'sunglasses mode.' Which, other than looking like hungover rock star, really serves to be an annoyance. Maybe not. Maybe I'm projecting how annoyed I would be if that happened to me. This, coupled with the fact that they are usually priced out of my budget (but that's neither here nor there), ensures that they are something I will most likely never get when I re-up on my glasses every few years.
This weekend kind of feels like I've been handed a pair of transitions lenses, metaphorically and metaphysically speaking.
My uncle has a country place that no one knows about. He said it used to be a Farm, before the motor laws. And on Sundays I elude the eye and hop the turbine freight, to far outside the wire where my white haired uncle wait.
Sorry. When I talk about the Farm, I almost always use the phrase, "My family has a Farm in Kentucky." And when I say that phrase out loud, in my head I hear the opening verse from Rush's "Red Barchetta." I can't help it. It's something I have done ever since I heard the song because I can see my family farm so clearly when I hear that song.
So...where was I? Oh yes...the Universe slapping on some Transitions Lenses.
I came down the Farm this weekend. It is my first trip down since October. Maybe longer. Point is, too long.
This weekend's trip is what Dad and I call a "down and back." Down one day, back the next. Normally to get the full Farm experience, we stay 2 nights. But I'm going back to Ohio tomorrow.
Only I'm not making the trip with Dad this weekend (he made a solo trip last weekend as I had other commitments). But it's not a solo trip. My daughter came down with me. It has been literally years since she made the trip.
My hope in asking her to come with me on these trips (or even with me and Dad) is that she starts to regain that connection to the land and to our heritage and ancestry.
And, I also hope that like me, this becomes a place where her soul can recharge and just experience the nature all around.
Based on the conversation we had this evening and the fact that she is snoring soundly in the next section of the camper, I'd say mission accomplished. Although I'm sure it will take many more trips to be certain. And I'm more than ok with that.
So...here's some of the weirdness. You might notice I mentioned a camper and not the farmhouse.
A little backstory.
After Papaw passed away (almost 20 years ago), my dad and his brother and sister made the determination that Mamaw probably wasn't ok to be out here by herself. It was a lot and without Papaw, the land seemed expansively empty. She moved close to my aunt and uncle. This left the land and the house standing empty. Enter a friend of the family. Kenny and his family moved in. The did renovation work on the farmhouse and they took care of the land. All this while Kenny was working and building his own dream house from the ground up.
Fast forward past the bits where Kenny got his house built and his family moved out of the farm house, leaving it to stand empty until Dad and I started coming down here some few years ago. Fast forwarding to the part where Kenny's son is now grown up and looking to start a family.
The farmhouse is perfect for them. He can continue to grow his skills in the construction business while doing some, quite frankly amazing, remodel and renovations to a place that I've known since I was 6 years old.
Ultimately it's a good thing. For everyone. It's the perfect place to raise a family. The land is not getting neglected. The house won't fall in to disrepair. And we get great caretakers who care about this land and this farm as much as Dad and I do.
And as cool as that all is (and it is, trust me), I still feel like my lenses haven't quite fully adjusted to the change.
I'm typing this blog sitting at a table (which converts in to a Twin bed) in a 25ft. pull-behind camper.
It's a nice camper. It looks exactly like this:
There are 2 twin beds, a bunk, and a full size bed. There is a stove, oven, 3/4 refrigerator and freezer, bathroom, shower, and storage out the wazoo.
So...this camper is now where Dad and I (and whomever comes out with us) will stay.
It's taking some getting used to, but I have to be honest, it feels more natural than I thought it would.
The place still feels close to my soul. That hasn't changed. This is still the center of who I am. And as my daughter said of it, "for the first time in a long time, I'm not worried about anything. I definitely needed to come down here."
I'd have enough on my plate if that were the only transition I was dealing with. But...you know me...as is my nature, I've opted for a good olde fashioned pile-on.
Another weird transition is the fact that this might actually be the first post EVER of ye olde bloggy-blog that I have posted WHILE STILL AT THE FARM.
Yes. While my cell phone doesn't actually work down here (no worries, I have what I affectionately call my burner phone), there is now wi-fi.
Tapping in to wi-fi seems weird. And I've only done it sporadically since we got here. I mean, after all, I come here to unwind and unplug. Hard to do that if I'm still scrolling through the feed. So...again...I came in and the lenses still haven't shifted yet.
It's all going to take some getting used to. I think it's good change, or ultimately will be so. For now, though, it's just a weird transition.
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