The Farmhouse in The Rosebriar

Once upon a time, I started a blog. Not this blog. At least, not originally by the name that it now has. But at the same time, it was this same blog, but in another time and season, and it was known by another name, and that was long, long ago. And I first called it by the name, “A Life Most Bountifully Blessed,” because it was to be a written and visual record and also a symbolism of the life that I had longed so very long to someday create.

Once Upon A Time, I Dreamt of A Farmhouse In A Rosebriar…

Today is the 22nd of July, in the year 2025, and on this particular day, the calendar marks for me the 15th anniversary since I started my very first blog- the prelude and precursor to this blog, which I write now. A part of me writes this to pay homage to my younger self, who felt a light within her soul ignite with hope that fateful summer so long ago, and also a tad bit of a tribute to how far she’s come since that first beginning, even though her dreams now have all but been completely crushed. She has not yet seen those hopes and dreams of hers come to fruition, and she has not seen at least a hopeful amount of progress in that general direction, as she hoped that they would have by now. But fifteen years ago, I began a blog, this blog, though, not by the name it now has, like a rose once known by a different name, and I made it for the purpose of chasing my dreams of someday having a little homestead to raise my family on, and a farmhouse to nurture into a home that nurtured could and would all those within its walls, like a well-honed tool in a curated toolbox of skillsets and catalyst tools in my homemaking, in home own home, and in the life I strive to build together, with my family.

There have been more days than not where I felt that this dream was pointless, impossible, hopeless, and I honestly did not believe that it would ever come to fruition for me, even though I kept trying to tell myself it still could.

But that dream, at least for me, has still not come true, and I am not much further along in that journey than that first summer when I first began actively working towards that dream. I might even be a little farther behind than when I first started, or maybe because I have learned a few small skills along the way, those two things cancel out each other, and it all equals out to about the same original point on the proverbial path and map at which I started.

I know that it would be an understandable thing to let the dream go. Life is so very unpredictable, and there are so many things that are outside of our control. I’ve made earnest, honest efforts over the years, as best I could in each season of my life, and according to the capacity I had at any given time. It would be understandable to many if I said, “Well, it’s been a good run, and it’s been an honor just to even play the game.” And walk away with a grace bow.

But at the same time, I’m a stubborn woman, and I don’t want to give up on something I feel so deeply about.. Not yet. Not ever. Because it was never merely about a homestead or a farmhouse or acquiring something for the sake of possessing it; It has always been a much more deeply felt, deeply rooted, heartfelt, sacred, and personal longing for me, even as a very young child, longing for “something more” to fill my spirit, heal my heart, and complete my soul. It was always about what I could build out of the those things, like catalysts and tools in an old toolbox for building a life.

When all is said and down, and eveything boiled down to it’s core, this is what it’s always been about:

Joy.

The reason has always been joy.

Not a joy found in a farmhouse.

Not a joy found in a homestead.

Not a joy found in a rural piece of land.

Not a joy found in any material thing or possession.

We all know, as a general rule of generations of experiential learned wisdom, that joy cannot be found in possessions, at least, not in and of themselves. When it comes to material possessions, they are, in reality, little more tools for us to be good and responsible stewards of, and joy can be built from the results of making good use and stewardsup of material things, if used as tools, and if used intentionally, and if our sights are set on an outcome that is actually capable of producing or resulting in sustainable, sustaining (that’s an important, nuanced detail), resilient, and genuine happiness and joy. Not a superficial sort, nor a vain or shallow kind. But something real, something that you can take with you to the next life… That kind of joy.

But the life that I have always dreamed of and intended to build, it does come from those pieces: A homestead, a farmhouse, a life in the countryside.

Maybe I could recreate what I have envisioned by some other way. But sometimes it’s difficult to imagine how it could be possible to recreate a feeling or experiece that you’ve had in some other way or location than where you’ve only ever really experienced it quite like you have in that place you are familiar with it coming from. Admittedly, that is me. I am that sort of person who struggles to know how to really, and more fully, or even just partially, be able to recreate those same experiences that came to me uniquely through a specific setting.

And that setting was my childhood home, in a little rural farming town, in the western hemisphere of the Pacific Northwest.

But in case I never do get the opportunty to see my dreams of a homestead home in the countryside come to fruition, I do want to try to create and recretae as much as I can of that life I long for and dream of returning to the countryside to, wherever am, including the here and now, in my curreny suburban locale and in another way, something other than I’ve previously know it to be possible… And if that means finding a way to build that life without a homestead on rural land, then so be it. I will try to find a way. Because this is the life I dream of, the experiences that I long for, and the feelings of joy that I desperately am in need of, to counterbalance all the negativity that this world tries to thrust upon me, the way it does to us all.

The house, the land, and the location have always only ever been like “tools” in my toolbox. These are the basics and foundational concepts from which I had envisioned creating from scratch a very specific life, with very specific life experiences, and which could, all together as a catalyst, produce very specific feelings that I already knew from experience could fill the human soul:

For peace,

For contentment,

For hard work and self-reliance  (and the inner peace and reassurance of being prepared, and not needing to fear the future),

For the beauty of the earth,

For human love and the nurturing of sacred family relationships,

For a more tried and true, sustainable, sustaining, resilient, and eternal mind of happiness.

For the true “finer things” of life, eternal things—Things that matter the very most.

For the chance at my very own little piece of heaven-on-earth.

For joy.

The place, the scenery, the “scripts” of how I envision that life to look like, be like, and feel like… And the designed scenes of that life that I’ve imagined and created a picture of in my head, and all the details that have comprised my childhood imagination and lifelong vision of this life that I have dreamed of, it’s all just been the backdrop for the story that I have longed to write, tell, and share with anyone who is willing to lend an ear since the day I first arrived at this vision of a life as my life’s dream at seven years old. I still remember where I was, when it was, what I was doing, thinking, and feeling in that exact moment… and thirty years ago, I am just now realizing, even as I write this…

But this is the important part: I am ever still in pursuit of a life of joy, and so this story must pick up where it was left off, and I must finish this journey and finish this story.

And so, with all that being said, and many words were said, because that is what I am good at doing (*blushes*), the story at last begins, again.