Ode to Riverdale...

And so the farm has gone.

What started as hopes and dreams for the four of us back in 1986 has reached its conclusion.  Sometimes things need to be over though.  It’s right and good that they should be.  Those four are split asunder, divorced and dead, leaving me as the last man standing so to speak. 

During my solo years I came and went, went and came – it was my safety net, always there.  I returned with a new husband whose dreams also centred around the land and we built a wonderful new home there that I poured my heart into and we lived in together until his death just four short years later. 

My beautiful mother adored the farm, and coaxed much from its soils during her time.  She died after 13 years there, and her ashes lie in her old garden, overgrown and holding her safe.

The land sustained me when I had not much else to live on, and even gave me an income, appealing to paying guests.  It’s groves of trees, and dark waters gave me shelter, solace and offered concealment on days when I didn’t want to be found. 

And then another husband came, stealing my heart rapidly.  He too felt the draw of this patch of earth, and gave much to improving it.  I shared my heart-home with him, most happily for 6 years, the best years. 

Dad’s dreams became his warders, as he turned inwards on himself and complained of being imprisoned within its boundaries.  Of course, his confines were all of his own creation.  And yet, as is often the way, he felt the fear of leaving its embrace when his time came calling… but in the end there was no other choice and he left for hospital, to return again as ashes.  Forever resting in its peaceful arms, hopefully he has stopped thinking about it as incarceration. 

We lived on happily with our friends the turkeys, bunnies and hares, plus the many birds that we loved until the time came to leave.  Our 6 years in what to me will always be paradise. Leaving was hard, but the process made completely easy by fate which stepped in and smoothed the path so much – as if by intervention.  Divine or motherly maybe? 

And so we left.  It was our time to go, to hand it on.  More dreams rest now in those verdant green glades, the dark waters still sliding past carrying wishes west, out towards the hungry sea…