This is my cathedral

Morning has broken,
Like the first morning.

Blackbird has spoken,
Like the first bird.

Praise for the singing,

Praise for the morning,

Praise for them springing...

Sproing!

When winter finally concedes defeat, it seems that everything needs to be done AT ONCE: the coop and barn need to be cleaned out, the yard is a disaster, the garden beds are knee deep in weeds. Long to-do lists are made and muscles and backs ache continually from trying to do it all.

But that's not why I haven't posted.

Spring also brings new life: trees bud, tulips and dandelions bloom, bunnies and kittens are born, and we were privileged to spend time with our children and joyfully welcome a new grandson.

But that's not why I haven't posted, either.

I have lost my blogging mojo; nothing seems worth putting fingers to keyboard. This spring I just feel sprung.

For many, many years I have been desiring a more self-reliant, country life; I was a poster child for the back-to-the-land, Mother Earth News generation. I retired early and for 10 years we developed Woodchuck Acres into a mini-farm with chickens and goats and bees and a huge garden; hard work and I loved every minute. Two years ago, we took a leap of faith and moved to Indiana. Our reasons were being closer to our grandchildren, a warmer climate, and more land (without rocks!). 

Those reasons are still valid but my goals are less clear to me.

Various health issues have curtailed what I can reasonably accomplish, roadblocks arise that are tough to overcome and everything seems harder than it should be. I'm thinking the cosmos is trying to tell me something.

In other words, I am in yet another midlife crisis.

(Yes, I know that at 62 years of age, "midlife" may be overly optimistic, but it describes my dilemma as well as any other term I know.)

I am an old hand at re-evaluating my life; I know the drill of touchstones and imagining perfect days, of finding your strengths and plotting dreams. I may be too familiar with the process-- sometimes it can be hard to knock yourself out of your old habits and see things from a new angle, to consider all of the possibilities of the world.

But I am not looking for a radical change. I have no ambitions towards becoming a surgeon or conducting an orchestra. Rather I think I need to tweek what I have and love, to expand it further.

I still love living in the country but I miss the diversity of thought and lifestyle found in a more populated area. I'll give up gardening when you pry my trowel from my cold, dead fingers but I can let go of the obsession with growing everything we eat. The animals of the farm still bring me joy--well, some of the them. Guinea hens are every bit as noisy as their reputations suggest and the sheep have not been a success for us (for sale: 2 Katahdin ewes, one ram, year old). And owning an older house, even with all of the repairs and quirks, still means "home" to me. 

I need some help. Have you ever reinvented your life? Changed directions, sought out new adventures? I'd like to hear about it; not only the "I went back to school at 96 years of age to become an astronaut" showstoppers but the small, meaningful swerves your life took, even the mistakes. 'Cause this baby boomer is anxious to get back in the groove.