It doesn’t matter what time of year it is, but if I need to leave the island, it tends to show me its very best.  As I dragged my suitcase over the gravel drive, the sun peaked through the clouds and with chickens clustered around my feet, I prepared myself for another “adventure”.

Where I am going doesn’t matter, in fact, it never does.  My feelings on leaving to go to a hot, sunny location or a cold, urban spot are the same, and I don’t want to go.

I live in an idyllic spot. We have a good life, and there is nothing I need to escape.

I don’t need a break from my day to day, goodness knows each day is different and unique on our farm. I leave to learn, and network and support my friends, but each time gets harder and harder.

This trip was especially difficult.  A new hatch of baby chicks, one day old when I leave and a week when I come back… which is YEARS in a chickens life.    A garden ready for planting and a fence >this< close to being done.  Warm, sunny days on the horizon and lots of fun projects on the list.

As I sat on the ferry, the island delivered its last attempt to keep me rooted there. Sunset, bold and bright over our hills, as my ship sailed off towards the urban city.

Ok.. it was a ferry, not a ship, and it “motored” along. . .  but you get the idea, right?