My kids and I packed up our favorite books and some clothes, and flew to North Carolina this morning to visit my brother. He owns a goat farm, and my mother is wintering with him this year in a cozy little house on his property.

There is always something going on at the farm. Eight baby goats were born earlier this week, and they each need milk, love, and attention. And truth be told, they nearly baaa out for snuggling. But maybe I’m projecting. Mama goats need hay, chickens need feed, cats need food, and goat cheese needs to be readied for the Saturday market.

But it was as I sat at the edge of the lake watching my kids skip rocks and float bark boats, did I realize how much I needed this time. To clear my mind of all competing priorities and just sit. Sit and watch the water ripple as each new rock “kerplunks” (my son invented a new verb). Listen to the ducks whose quacks sound like laughs. And stretching out a chat at the dinner table, enjoying dessert made from these goats’ milk and my brother’s own skilled hands.

What a gift to experience this beautiful and serene place where activity happens all around you, but it is somehow less frantic, less intense, and less serious than my regular world. I vow to make the most of my days here, so I can bring a little back with me into my daily life. I hope to keep the farm in my heart as I meet my work and home commitments in a purposeful way. 

Who knew a farm could hold such magic?