The past two weeks have been awful, health-wise. Valentine’s day started out wonderfully: my husband spent the day at the farm, while Baby and I spent the day playing inside (it was raining).
The Man came home early and surprised me with a luxurious fuzzy red robe by Natori. (Isn’t it a perfect red color?!) I presented him with new work gloves. All was well. Or so we thought…
What started out as any other day turned into the worst 24 stomach virus that either one of us had ever experienced. This was immediately followed by a week long head and chest cold caught by yours truly. Yesterday, Baby developed a serious case of the sniffles. It’s like we can’t win, man.
So anyway, photos are sparse, but I spent this self-imposed quarantine playing with Instagram and trying to learn Photoshop. It’s not easy. It’s downright confusing. I’m going to have to take a class or something. I’ve been pinning online tutorials like crazy onto Pinterest. I just need to find time to actually read them.
I also bought this gorgeous purple polish by Essie. It makes me think of Spring.
Here’s wishing everyone a healthy and disease-free week!
Four Generations

Four Generations

This past December we took a trip to Texas, to visit my husband’s father and his family. His father’s father, Grandpa Howard, was visiting from New York. We decided to take a photo of four generations of Wander boys.

It got me thinking: how many people have the privilege of growing up around past generations of their families? Back in the day when it was common to live in multi-generational homes, I don’t think this photo would have meant as much to me as it does now. But we only see most of our family once or twice a year.

The way Sam and his Great-Grandpa Howard are looking at each other…I just melt

Today We Bought A Farm

Today We Bought A Farm

The title of the post really speaks for itself. It almost didn’t happen.  Six days before closing we discovered (through no fault of our own) we were going to have to pay cash for the property or the seller was going to walk. And so, after many sleepless nights (and almost an entire bottle of Belvedere vodka), we managed to come up with money to make it happen.

And now we own a 109 year old farm in Western Washington. We are broke. We don’t have a penny to our name. We might have to sell our first born. But we own a farm.

It has apples. It has pears. It has pastures. It has woods. It has a barn.

It has a new septic system. (This might not seem like a big deal, but anyone who has purchased or owned undeveloped land knows that a new septic system is an amazing and beautiful thing.)

That’s our barn. Isn’t it gorgeous?

On Sunday, we’ll drive up to the property and do what any new landowners would do: run around like crazy, taking pictures and carving our name into every tree, stump and fence post we can find.

And maybe have a nice picnic lunch.