It took us four days to get to Arkansas but we did it. We stopped in what felt like a million states and were on the road forever. The boys did amazing. It was HOT and the move didn’t go as smoothly as we had hoped. In Kansas my tire blew out in the trailer I was hauling and Ericson was in his truck a couple cars behind me. He told me he saw cars swerving and smoke and was hoping it wasn’t me.
It pretty much was the scariest thing ever. But I popped a tire like a champ. Pumped the breaks and safely got it out of the street.
We think the heat is what caused it.
After about two hours of trying to change the wheel - we did it.
After this ordeal we stopped and got a bite to eat and then got stuck at a McDonalds in Kansas. The wind was crazy and we didn’t want our rv to tip over.
After days of driving, we finally passed the “welcome to Arkansas” sign.
Are we in Arkansas? The boys asked! We were! The landscape went from totally flat to beautiful rocks and the greenest trees you ever did see.
We had to stay at a local RV park in Bella Vista until the house closed. It was amazing. Water holes, tadpoles, crawdads, snakes (ew), caves to explore and trees to climb… the boys were in heaven.
We took them to the Bentonville square and to the original Walmart (the five and dime) that they have turned into a museum and delicious ice cream parlor and then took the boys over to see the house.
For the past couple years, the little “farming” seed has grown in our hearts. This seed started small, like most journeys of growth, with backyard vegetables and our own suburban laying hens. But the seed has grown and grown, and we are ready for more adventures, ready for the path where less doesn’t necessarily mean more, where our day is depicted more by the sun and moon than what our calendar or inbox says — and where we really realize we are more than just people trapped in the cycle of waking up, working, paying bills and sleeping.
These things do not define my family.
I’m looking forward to farm camps, community movie nights where our friends and neighbors can come to the farm and relax on colorful vintage quilts underneath dancing string lights. And we are looking forward to letting our boys play outside until the sun goes down. We can see us all catching lightning bugs, and watching them glow in our cupped hands, and gathering around the old wooden table set with jars of sweet grass-fed milk we will drink in the morning before heading out to the barn to begin chores.
But what we think we will most enjoy is a far cry from our lives today — the silence. The freedom of stepping outside and not hearing a single soul, not a single deadline, not a single neighbor complaining or gossiping, not a single ping announcing another email, but only the sounds of the soft whisper of the grass and plants, or the rumbling purr of our barn cat, our boys playing (or disagreeing!) and through it all, the chance to sow into them the principles of real life.
We aren’t sure exactly how we will do it, but the seed has been planted. We don’t want this one wild and beautiful life to pass on by without being intentional about slowing down and embracing joy. There’s a whole lot of unknown right now, but we are loving every minute learning how to make this all come true.
About a year ago I meet a family in Idaho that had bought a little farmhouse. We went and checked it out (as we were looking for our own farmhouse) and fell in love with the old and original details of the room. I really wanted a chance to stay and help redo every single room in the house but since we were making a big move couldn’t.
So, I had a talk with the homeowner, put a mood board together and got to work. E-design is fun! You help others get an idea of what would work, put a mood board together, help find products but let the homeowner put it together!
How cute did this turn out! Isn’t the wallpaper I found just perfect?