On the Farm
Though my thoughts may wander, the path to the barn never leads my feet astray.
Emily Gibson reflects on her daily walks to the barn, chores and all.
Twice each day I walk the same downhill path to the barn for chores. Sometimes I’m half asleep, sometimes weary from working a long day in town. I walk most often in the dark, sometimes sliding on icy snow or slipping in mud from unending rain, sometimes wading through a sea of overgrown grass.
The constant in this twice-daily journey is the path itself and where it always takes me, no matter the time of year, the weather, or how temporarily difficult it is to discern. I have learned the way by feel as much as by sight—the twist here, the dip there, the aromatic stretch through the stand of wild mint—all while trying to avoid stepping on the playful farm dogs or the barn cat underfoot.
I prefer to take the demarcated path to the barn because it keeps me focused on the task ahead of me. If I deviate, I’ll surely find weeds to pull, a woodpecker to admire, a cluster of cherries to eat, or a sweet pea blossom to smell. The distraction may be welcome, but so much work remains. I must find my way back to the path and stick to it.
As a teenager, I was a trailblazer, bushwhacking my way through brambles to see what might be on the other side, simply to prove I was stronger than the brush. In my middle age, I tend to stick to the familiar. I like knowing where my feet will land, what work my hands will touch, and where my head will rest. The adventure of the unknown, so attractive in my youth, is less appealing now. The visible path, even when difficult to follow due to cover of snow, sea of mud or abundance of overgrowth, is reassurance that I have a purpose and a destination. I can see where I am going.
We tread many paths during our time on this soil—some mundane, leading to barns and chores, and others a matter of faith, trust, heart and spirit. As tempting as it is to deviate from the path, it is there for a reason. It is rarely straight. But it must be true, steadfastly leading us to where we are called and back again to where we belong.
It’s time to pull on my boots.