Thoughts from a Messy Christmas 2020

Note from Janel: This week I’m vacating with my family–or soon attempting to, after the errands are finished and we sink into full-on celebration mode. 

So I’m sliding in these thoughts, most originally published three years ago, which have followed me around like a pet pig. read more

I grew up amidst a small, tidy farm in central Illinois. The colors that primarily swirl in my memory are the rustling greenness that stretched in acres of corn or soybeans on every side, or the grass that could only be truly experienced through one’s toes. The affectionately flaking bright red of the barn stands tall in my mind, along with the mottled red of the apple trees, the streaked pink of rhubarb stems, the buttery yellow (and a peeping cacophony) of baby chicks. And there’s the white of our ancient farmhouse trimmed neatly with black shutters. Farms have their own simple beauty.