The Boys

The farm boy; my only boy. 

I used to say boys. 

A moment; forever changed. 

My brothers, always called "the boys."

Mom's words echo;
 "have you talked to the boys?" 

Grown men with families. 
The boys.

Naturally I began to call my sons; 

the boys. 

I loved calling them that. 

I loved having 2 boys. 

They fought. 
Tousling. 
Angry. 
Dominance. 
Fists clenched. 
War.
Strength. 

Awful. 

Until. 

Maturity. 
Alliance. 

Friendship.

Early on it was as cohorts against public enemy number one;

Mom. 

An alliance while playing video games. 

Competition. 

This beautiful interaction was just beginning. 

When it ended. 

Now, there is one. 

He wrestles with this new role. 

Oldest boy. 

Only boy. 

He walks the stairs each night past the closed door. 

Past the silence. 

Each time molding and shaping who he is becoming. 

You see this farm boy; made a choice. 

He entered the waters of baptism. 

He aligned himself with the living God. 

And the enemy of our souls reared. 

The farm boy went head to head with challenge after challenge. 

His brothers death left him vulnerable. 

He rebelled and fought. 

Until he made a choice. 

To surrender to that baptism. 

To stand strong in the face of opposition. 

This mama and a slew of others bowed low. 
Digging deep. 
We worked. 
On our knees;
 Interceding for this amazing young man. 

And he shed that skin of discontentment. 

He threw off the chains that brought him down. 

Step by step he is yielding; submitting to the Father's will. 

It is still a painful battle. 

He misses his brother. 

He, nor any of us, understand. 

And the missing is deep. 

That farm boy is taking his energy and creativity

 and turning it into something beautiful. 

He's taking something worn down and discouraged and
 breathing into it new life. 


Isaiah 43:19
See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.

We have a Savior who longs to do the very same for each and everyone of us. 

He sees the plan that is obscured from our view. 

He is working. 

He is doing a new thing. 

We're taking off the scales to see. 

We're reaching for hope, when all seems lost. 

I continue to not like this road. 

Yet, along the way I don't want to miss the beauty that awaits. 

My purpose is beyond what I can see. 

My worn down, discouraged self is stepping out and seeking the new thing. 

I want to be refreshed and given new eyes to see. 

Not in my own strength but always in his. 

Won't you take this journey with me? 

Psalm 91:4
He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; 
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.

Celebrating my Farmer

He hangs yellow ribbons. 

This farmer of mine. 

He texts the college girl on her way home. 

She's on a bus headed our way. 

"He'll tie a yellow ribbon round the Old Oak Tree."

She needs to look up the lyrics. 

You tube will show her what her parents have neglected. 

We pull into the driveway. 

There are yellow ribbons. 

I wonder at it. 

Had I missed these before I left. 

She gradually unfolds the story. 

I marvel at the gesture. 

Yellow ribbons and a song to welcome his daughter home. 

His quiet ways. 

His gentle and thoughtful manner. 

And I marvel at this man. 

A man I have been married to for 22 years;

still surprises me in so many ways. 

He's turning 60 today. 

His life has held so much. 

Joy and heartache interwoven through the years. 

Somehow he has remained solid as a rock through these winding threads. 

Faithful. 

Steady. 

Full of hope. 

Even when the joy thief crashed through. 

There was hope. 

His faith unrelenting. 

Rising before the sun to milk;

 keeping his phone set to reading through the Ancient Word. 

The milking parlor his sanctuary. 

Prayer lists on the wall. 

Ever before him. 

A reminder; slow and steady. 

Life is not a race. 

I bristle at his pace. 

My harsh, abrupt ways; clashing. 

The world always beckoning me. 

Hurry. 

Fit more in. 

We're going to be late. 

While he waits in the background. 

Quiet and steady. 

The rhythm of the chores a cadence for life. 

Lessons to be learned. 

The way of the farmer. 

Strong. 

Resting. 

Solid. 

Unhurried. 

Nursing and coaxing life into being.  

Rising and falling with the milk prices. 

Taking each pitfall in stride. 

Present in each moment. 

Never wavering. 

He models the Father with each step he takes. 

A pace lost to most these days. 

He stops to tie ribbons for his daughter. 

He indulges a farm niece and helpers with rogue calves. 

His words are few. 

His actions resounding. 

Echoing for generations to come. 

A legacy. 

A faith. 

My farmer. 

Happy Birthday!

We're Stepping Out In Faith, We're putting Feet on A Dream!

We're working hard.

Painting. 

Cleaning.  (Eww)

Gardening. 

Decorating. 

So exciting. 

We're taking a step of faith. 

Putting feet on a dream.

My farmers word from the Lord. 

"More people."

My gift; hospitality. 

Friends who are all in. 

Do you long to experience a slower pace? 

Have you ever wondered what life on a farm might look like?

Do you just need a break? 

Introducing the 

Davis Farm Guest House

At the Davis Farm Guest House you will find all of that and more. 

We are creating a space, with a spectacular view, and lots of coffee, 
 for you to come to us. 

Check into our cozy three bedroom Guest House. 

Come and experience life on our farm. 

Drive the cows home for milking. 

Stack wood for the fires for winter. 

Help make bread or purchase your own local ingredients 
to create a delicious dinner in our spacious, fully stocked kitchen. 


Sit and savor the view with a hot cup of coffee or tea on our beautiful deck. 

Or curl up with a book by the warmth of a fire. 

If adventure is what you seek, climb our local Mount Mansfield or 
Camel's hump. 

Head into down town Burlington for shopping, great food and excitement. 

Drive to the slopes during ski season. 
Take full advantage of our close proximity to Smugglers Notch. 

Come stay for a weekend, a week or a month. 

A get a way for the whole family or time to re-connect with friends. 

There's plenty of room. 

We've been planning, painting and praying. 

We've been getting ready to welcome you and your friends and family 

to our 

Davis Farm Guest House


Come as strangers. . . leave as family. 

 Will you please share our new adventure. 

Contact us at 802-899-2357 
or e-mail us at davisfarm@surfglobal.net  for reservations. 

Find us on the web at www.farmingoncilleyhill.blogspot.com 
or on our Davis Farm face book page. 

Looking forward to sharing this beautiful space we have been blessed with. 

Let us know what you think! 

Learning From Wandering Cows

My farmer brings the cows back to the field. 

They have been wandering. 

Stepping over fences. 

Moving outside their boundaries. 

It's not the first time. 

This group pushes and tests the boundaries. 

Repeatedly. 

My farmer calls to them. 

They know him, and hear his voice. 

He leads them back to safety. 

We are like those frisky heifers. 

We're eager to see what is just beyond. 

To feel there is more; just beyond our reach. 

The boundaries; set to protect us. 

Protect us from things we do not even know or understand. 

Lines erased, justified, compromised. 

As small children, parameters are placed for our protection. 

Stern commands to set the boundaries. 

Still. 

Immediate desire to go against the flow. 

Break the rules. 

Stretch the limits. 

Until. 

That gentle Shepherd finds us. 

Jeremiah 31:3

The LORD appeared to us in the past, saying: "I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.

He gently leads us home. 

Today is Elijah's 20th birthday. 

He has spent 3 birthday's in heaven. 

Some days I want life to stop. 

To not move on. 

I step over those boundaries. 

I attempt to take a path that is outside the way. 

Lovingly and gently my Shepherd brings me back. 

My eyes just need to remain focused. 

I need to hear his voice. 

Spend time with Him so I can recognize His call. 

If you're wandering and feel lost. 

Take time to get to know the One who can lead you home. 

Elijah's greatest gift to me will always be his walk with the Lord. 

He was not perfect; by any means. 

Yet he left this legacy. 

This was no accident or coincidence. 

Thank you my boy. 

For the gift. 

My heart aches with the missing. 

Yet I am confident I will see you again. 

Happy 20th sweetheart. 

Raising My Ebenezer

The smell intoxicating. 

I never knew how much those lilacs would come to mean to me. 

The years visiting my mother and father in law's grave. 

Breathing the deep scent.

 Now as I sit here at my sons grave, the tears flow and the ache gnaws  away; 

the heady scent is refreshing; comforting. 

For each moment needs to be turned to Praise. 

Because we are a people created to praise. 

To give glory and honor to the One who created all. 

It's strange to sit at your sons grave, in a century old cemetery and seek praise. 

But that's what I do. 

I give praise and thanks in the middle of the pain. 

Praise for the years he was here. 

Praise that I saw him graduate. 

Praise for the life he lived. 

The impact he made. 

I remember. 

I remember the day he was born. 

Even then, God teaching me to let go. 

I was so sick. 

Others held him before me. 

I look around the cemetery. 

Other beloved family members so close. 

Stones marking the lives of those loved dearly. 

Flags blowing in the gentle breeze, whispering of the past. 

I remember. 

Memorial Day. 

A day to remember. 

To honor. 

We must never forget. 

I Samuel 7:12

Then Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Shen. 

He named it Ebenezer, saying, "Thus far the LORD has helped us."

We erect memorials in our lives to mark events. 

We celebrate birthdays. 

We place markers at graves. 

It is in us to remember. 

Oral tradition of story telling originated from a desire to never forget. 

Deuteronomy 11:19

Teach them to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.

God tells us not to forget. 

Do not forget my Word. 

Teach your children in everything you do. 

Each step you take. 

Every move you make. 

He has equipped us to carry His word to the people. 

We do this in word and deed. 

Let this Memorial Day be a remembrance of what Christ did for you. 

Of what your fellow men and women endured for your freedom. 

Remember. 

Never forget. 

Share it. 

Live it. 

What will you do to remember this Day? 

When There's An Early Frost And No Heat

The steam from the cooking apples warm the kitchen. 

Soon there will be applesauce. 

There is going to be another frost.

We have no heat in our home right now. 

I keep the doors closed. 

I bring in the mums so they won't freeze. 

We pick the last of the tomatoes on my one plant. 

I'm such a gardener. 

The doors to the other end of the house are shut. 

We are hanging a quilt over the doorway to the hallway that goes upstairs. 

We need to conserve heat. 

The down part of a large home. 

It seems too early to have such a frost. 

A reminder of winters pull. 

In the morning I'll make hot chocolate, lots of coffee and 

cook something in the oven to warm the rooms. 

The kiddos will come clambering down to try to get warm. 

I will always be grateful for no heat upstairs and the pull of the warm kitchen. 

For now we'll head to bed. 

We'll add another blanket; find an extra pair of socks.

And make sure chopping wood rises to the top of the list. 

After haying, feeding animals, milking, repairs. . . etc. etc.

Good Night.