My time in the country has been far to short. Now that I'm older, time moves faster. We spent many years dreaming about our farm. We imagined the pastures managed perfectly, with fencing that was both functional and beautiful. Our barn and buildings would be tidy and leak-proof, the stalls and pens secure and safe. We wanted a really nice pick-up with low miles on it. We dreamed of expertly pruned trees and flower beds blooming around the house and barnyard, as well as a vegetable garden yielding nine months out of the year. It would never rain on our hay. Our dog and cats would never run off. There would be no moles, thistles, burdock or other noxious weeds. The deer, coyotes, raccoons and wild rabbits would only stroll through the yard for our amusement and not disturb anything. Our livestock would have the best bloodlines we could afford and would never get sick or injured. And of course, the house would always stay clean so we could spend most of our time working outside. That is a dream. Farms can be backbreaking, morale-eroding, expensive sinkholes. Ours has sometimes been that. Yet we stay put because it is home. We've bred and grown good livestock (goats, steers, horses, chickens), great garden and tons of hay from our own field. We breathe clean air and look at some of the best scenery this side of heaven. We have been blessed with one another, with sunrises and sunsets and everything in between. This is what the best dreams are made of.