Tara, you were obviously connected to the land and all of nature at an early age. I wonder if having moved to the big city helped make you the strong farmer and leader you are today. The contrasts between the two, and the roots with the earth and nature all around you formed as a child somehow kept you focused on returning? Maybe that’s too easy of an assessment, but it’s clear you were and are now acutely aware of deeper thoughts and feelings about life and living with your environment. Ah, maybe I shouldn’t try to analyze. It was beautiful writing no matter what.
I think that's pretty astute, Guy. The fire and moving to the city was just the beginning of a troubled period that lasted into my twenties. Let's just say it was the army that finally sorted me out :)
Beautiful! And I can say “me too” as I got back to more rural roots in my 60s—and I’ve never looked back from that decision. I am so happy here in Maine. My childhood was split between my Georgia rural grandparents and the family farm and Air Force bases. But I got enough of the rural and the land to know that I needed to be out of a city. I envy you your farm, Tara! And I’m living vicariously via your posts.
It's such a gift to even be exposed to those rural places. I think all of those seeds live on in us and come to bloom when the sun and watering is just right. Thank you, Louisa. :)
Oh Tara, I feel for the little girl who experienced this trauma , because ultimately that’s what it was . Just like when refugees leave their home , to make a new life , the tablecloth was pulled from under you .
I hope you give your inner child the biggest hug and comfort, and let her know she found her way back home .
Wow! I’m sure you have heard this many times and I’m sure I have said it as well but seeing your writing in this different vein…you truly are a gifted writer! This tugs at my heart strings and provides so much nostalgia as well. Looking forward to reading the whole piece!
Lovely writing. Thank you. These childhood realizations are so important in shaping who we are. These traumas we survive determine so much of what we become. Would be fascinating to know more of your ancestral background. I discovered not long ago that even though I am heavily European American in descent that I had French Canadian ancestors living on the prairies. My husband is a descendant of Canadian prairie farmers who in turn we’re refugees from post-Revolutionary War United States. Funny to imagine all of the real stories we are largely unaware of which have shaped us.
Thank you :) Maybe we're related? My father's side is French Canadian/Metis through and through. My mother is the descendant of Slovak immigrants that came here in the 1930s to escape upheaval in their country, lured by the Canadian government offering land to farmers.
Loved reading about this return to your childhood despite the difficult feelings I’m sure it brought back. Also? I’m from Slovak heritage too! Poppyseed rolls were one of my favourite treats that my Oma & Babi used to make. ❤️
OH! We could feast together! What else did you eat? We called our grandparents Zedko and Bapka. Isn't Oma Ukranian? Or is it different from different regions? Did you ever eat the perogies stuffed with plums? To die for!
Well… our family was Jewish so maybe it’s a bit different? My moms side was Oma and Opa and dad’s side was Babi and Dede (much like Zedko I think!) There was some Hungarian influence in my dad’s side too.
I loved Šlikové Knedlé! And bryndzové halušky yum… oh I could go on and on lol Eastern European food is so delicious.
We could most definitely feast together! Maybe one day when our homestead is established we can get you guys over for a meal (and to pick your brains!)
Ah, Tara. This is heartbreakingly beautiful, as so much of what you share is. Thank you for your clarity, your worsmithery and your sense of things. I'm honoured to have these windows into your world. Always, with love
Thank you, Paula, for your open heart. It's okay, all and everything for this moment right here when sunshine pours through my window, a little duck sits at my feet, and I'm writing thanks and feeling gratitude for the kindness of a stranger named Paula. xo
Tara, what beautiful writing. I spent my childhood somewhat rural but with acres of nursery around and a pond with a babbling brook nearby that consumed many hours of my childhood. My mother had to find me for meals…even in the rain, I loved being outdoors. Lived in St. Louis for a few years in my mid thirties and it was soul crushing. We live in rural WI now. Just today I was delighting in the sound of the warm wind in the pines, bees buzzing by at Mach 6. I’ve never understood cities much. Your writing evoked such memories of my childhood. Maybe someday we’ll have the honor of reading more of this story. Sometimes the most difficult situations have the greatest positive impact down the road. Not always. You are to be commended on the life you’ve created. It’s beautiful, intentional and creative. Thanks for sharing your story!
Wow, this is such a beautiful piece, Tara. You so captured the innocence, confusion, and trauma of a child who suddenly and traumatically loses everything she knows and loves. So many of us can relate. I know you have mentioned that much of your childhood after this incident was difficult, and I'm wondering if you think that trauma and chaos impacted and shaped your nervous system and chronic health issues later in life?
I look forward to hearing/reading more from "young" Tara. Your writing always feels very intuitive to me even at this young age. Your imagery always transforms me to your experience. Thank you, Jeff
Your description of Snowball, with her white fur and your black hair and your pink noses struck a chord with my youth. With my own bonded kitty of tabby fur and my red hair and our noses. That you dreamed of her after her death, reuniting in the most sorrowful dream. It's haunting to hear that your younger self's guilt prompted these visits, but its comforting in a way, because that is what happened to my younger self when my kitty died, too.
Tara, I am so sorry that happened to your family. Your writing takes me places that I had long forgotten about, beckoning me to return. Thank you for waking me up and stirring the desire to return to the country. Your way with words is beautiful.
Tara, you were obviously connected to the land and all of nature at an early age. I wonder if having moved to the big city helped make you the strong farmer and leader you are today. The contrasts between the two, and the roots with the earth and nature all around you formed as a child somehow kept you focused on returning? Maybe that’s too easy of an assessment, but it’s clear you were and are now acutely aware of deeper thoughts and feelings about life and living with your environment. Ah, maybe I shouldn’t try to analyze. It was beautiful writing no matter what.
I think that's pretty astute, Guy. The fire and moving to the city was just the beginning of a troubled period that lasted into my twenties. Let's just say it was the army that finally sorted me out :)
Thank you for such a nice compliment.
Beautiful! And I can say “me too” as I got back to more rural roots in my 60s—and I’ve never looked back from that decision. I am so happy here in Maine. My childhood was split between my Georgia rural grandparents and the family farm and Air Force bases. But I got enough of the rural and the land to know that I needed to be out of a city. I envy you your farm, Tara! And I’m living vicariously via your posts.
It's such a gift to even be exposed to those rural places. I think all of those seeds live on in us and come to bloom when the sun and watering is just right. Thank you, Louisa. :)
Oh Tara, I feel for the little girl who experienced this trauma , because ultimately that’s what it was . Just like when refugees leave their home , to make a new life , the tablecloth was pulled from under you .
I hope you give your inner child the biggest hug and comfort, and let her know she found her way back home .
So much love ❤️
Thank you so much, Elodie. She was a sweet little thing, fierce and tender and I'm so glad she's part of me still. xo
Wow! I’m sure you have heard this many times and I’m sure I have said it as well but seeing your writing in this different vein…you truly are a gifted writer! This tugs at my heart strings and provides so much nostalgia as well. Looking forward to reading the whole piece!
Thank you so much, Jenelle. That's such a nice compliment to receive.
Beautiful writing. I could picture everything that little girl was doing, and feeling. Thank you
Thank you, Julieanne. xo
Lovely writing. Thank you. These childhood realizations are so important in shaping who we are. These traumas we survive determine so much of what we become. Would be fascinating to know more of your ancestral background. I discovered not long ago that even though I am heavily European American in descent that I had French Canadian ancestors living on the prairies. My husband is a descendant of Canadian prairie farmers who in turn we’re refugees from post-Revolutionary War United States. Funny to imagine all of the real stories we are largely unaware of which have shaped us.
Thank you :) Maybe we're related? My father's side is French Canadian/Metis through and through. My mother is the descendant of Slovak immigrants that came here in the 1930s to escape upheaval in their country, lured by the Canadian government offering land to farmers.
Will look it up if I can remember the last name of the French Canadians, lol. It's a big tree.
Loved reading about this return to your childhood despite the difficult feelings I’m sure it brought back. Also? I’m from Slovak heritage too! Poppyseed rolls were one of my favourite treats that my Oma & Babi used to make. ❤️
OH! We could feast together! What else did you eat? We called our grandparents Zedko and Bapka. Isn't Oma Ukranian? Or is it different from different regions? Did you ever eat the perogies stuffed with plums? To die for!
Well… our family was Jewish so maybe it’s a bit different? My moms side was Oma and Opa and dad’s side was Babi and Dede (much like Zedko I think!) There was some Hungarian influence in my dad’s side too.
I loved Šlikové Knedlé! And bryndzové halušky yum… oh I could go on and on lol Eastern European food is so delicious.
We could most definitely feast together! Maybe one day when our homestead is established we can get you guys over for a meal (and to pick your brains!)
We admire you and your hubby so much.
Much love ❤️
Ah, Tara. This is heartbreakingly beautiful, as so much of what you share is. Thank you for your clarity, your worsmithery and your sense of things. I'm honoured to have these windows into your world. Always, with love
Thank you so much, my friend. I hope I can give you a hug one day.
That will be a great day 💝
Thank you for sharing. I cried for you as a little girl. I am sorry your house burnt down.
Thank you, Paula, for your open heart. It's okay, all and everything for this moment right here when sunshine pours through my window, a little duck sits at my feet, and I'm writing thanks and feeling gratitude for the kindness of a stranger named Paula. xo
Tara, what beautiful writing. I spent my childhood somewhat rural but with acres of nursery around and a pond with a babbling brook nearby that consumed many hours of my childhood. My mother had to find me for meals…even in the rain, I loved being outdoors. Lived in St. Louis for a few years in my mid thirties and it was soul crushing. We live in rural WI now. Just today I was delighting in the sound of the warm wind in the pines, bees buzzing by at Mach 6. I’ve never understood cities much. Your writing evoked such memories of my childhood. Maybe someday we’ll have the honor of reading more of this story. Sometimes the most difficult situations have the greatest positive impact down the road. Not always. You are to be commended on the life you’ve created. It’s beautiful, intentional and creative. Thanks for sharing your story!
Wow, this is such a beautiful piece, Tara. You so captured the innocence, confusion, and trauma of a child who suddenly and traumatically loses everything she knows and loves. So many of us can relate. I know you have mentioned that much of your childhood after this incident was difficult, and I'm wondering if you think that trauma and chaos impacted and shaped your nervous system and chronic health issues later in life?
I look forward to hearing/reading more from "young" Tara. Your writing always feels very intuitive to me even at this young age. Your imagery always transforms me to your experience. Thank you, Jeff
That was so beautiful to read I could visualize all of it and felt like I was there with you. If this was a book I’d happily read it!
Your description of Snowball, with her white fur and your black hair and your pink noses struck a chord with my youth. With my own bonded kitty of tabby fur and my red hair and our noses. That you dreamed of her after her death, reuniting in the most sorrowful dream. It's haunting to hear that your younger self's guilt prompted these visits, but its comforting in a way, because that is what happened to my younger self when my kitty died, too.
Tara, I am so sorry that happened to your family. Your writing takes me places that I had long forgotten about, beckoning me to return. Thank you for waking me up and stirring the desire to return to the country. Your way with words is beautiful.