Ten years sounds like a long time. Ten visits does not. A story about a father counting the number of times he might realistically see his parents again made me rethink how we measure time. It also made me think about my own children, aging parents, and even farming. Sometimes life isn't measured in years. Sometimes it's measured in visits and seasons.
The kids were home for the weekend, and I thought we were making the most of our time together. We shared meals, went about our days, and settled into familiar routines. But as they packed up to leave, I realized something important had been missing all along. Sometimes the busiest part of life isn't what steals our attention—it's the habits we don't even notice
When both of our kids came home for the weekend, the farm felt a little fuller—and the kitchen became a lot more complicated. Between picky eaters, apartment hunting in New York City, and the daily challenges of growing flowers, I found myself reflecting on how often flexibility matters in both farming and life.
