A while back, I wrote about how this season of life for us feels less about constantly building and more about finally learning how to live alongside what we built.

The first few years of the farm were a full-court press.

Every spare second went into figuring things out as we went, whether that meant adjusting irrigation, reworking routines, learning the soil, or solving problems we didn’t even know existed yet, and somehow it always felt like every season arrived five minutes earlier than expected.

But I think a lot of life works that way too, especially when you’re raising children or building something from scratch.

For years, it feels like you’re just trying to keep the train moving.

And somewhere along the way, being busy starts feeling normal.

Lately though, during my morning walks through the fields, I’ve realized something has shifted a little. The farm still keeps us busy, of course, but it no longer feels like every second is spent putting out fires. There are still plenty of things to improve, but for the first time in a long time, it feels like there’s room to come up for air.

And I’d like to enjoy it.

So in the spirit of taking advantage of living in Cape May, especially this time of year when the air smells like salt, sunscreen, and somebody grilling hamburgers at 2pm on a Tuesday, I’ve decided to take up golf.

Which feels mildly ridiculous considering I’ve never held a golf club in my life.

But the older I get, the more I realize movement doesn’t always have to feel intense to be worthwhile. Sometimes it’s enough to just be outside, learn something new, laugh at yourself a little, and give your brain a break from the endless mental tabs we all seem to carry around now.

And from what I can tell, golf seems to be 90% mindset and 10% trying not to launch your club into a pond.

Which fascinates me because lately I’ve been noticing how quickly the brain jumps to all the usual things whenever you try something new: you’re behind, you’re too old to start, you’ll probably be terrible at this anyway.

Meanwhile, somewhere there’s a retired man named Gary who started golfing at 67 and now owns twelve polos and a very strong opinion about putters.

So maybe we’re allowed to be beginners again.

Maybe doing something badly for a while is actually good for us.

This year, I changed my Mother’s Day request from a persimmon tree to golf lessons at the little Par 3 course here in Cape May.

I think what I’m really craving are hobbies again.

Just hobbies that exist for the sake of enjoyment, without needing to turn into work, income, or something worth posting online.

Just small things that make life feel fuller.

And maybe that’s your reminder today too.

You’re allowed to have interests outside of taking care of everyone else.

You’re allowed to do something simply because it sounds fun.

So if any of you golf and have advice for a complete beginner, I’m all ears.

(And if anyone happens to have used ladies golf clubs and/or a golf bag collecting dust somewhere, let me know before I accidentally show up looking like Happy Gilmore.)

Speaking of things finally slowing down enough to enjoy them for five minutes, the peonies and spring flowers are beginning to open here on the farm.

Every morning, I get about an hour or two to admire them before they’re harvested away. That’s the funny thing about flower farming. The fields are constantly changing. Nothing stays at peak bloom for very long.

But right now, for this tiny little window, the farm feels soft and full and overflowing with color.

And after the spring we’ve had, I’m making myself stop long enough to enjoy it.