The Great Bridge

Every morning I walk down the driveway, (mud path) to the wooden bridge. I unlock the gate, push it open and walk up the creaky boards that have been drizzled with dew. They creak from the screws that hold them in place to the great white oak stringer logs that span 30 ft across the mammoth creek. I spend much time on that bridge. It's not just boards, logs, rebar, concrete and gravel. It's the gateway to our future.

Saturday mornings I sit feet dangled over the edge, coffee in hand and watch the water flow.

A Farm is Born

So this is how I will start the Blog.

What you see before you may not hardly look like a farm, but you have to start somewhere right. This is our land! Proud and true to what is it, a bunch of trees sitting on twenty acres, unto where three creeks run through. Some of the land floods a tad during rainy season, but all the more to water the seed of dreams we hold.