Once upon a dusty February afternoon, I moved to Wolfe City and apparently also stepped straight into the next chapter of my fairy tale - happily ever after...rural style. With a side of barn fairy dust. The peace. The calm. The ease. The love. And my favorite word.....the healing. Y'all, I'm not just in my happy place - I am sitting in a recliner of emotional restoration and it's parked right out here on my gravel road. (See Gospel According to Monty below.)
That said, the dust did not exactly settle quickly. Have you ever tried settling into a new house and realized there are approximately 4,203 things to do before you can exhale? Movers, address changes, utility gymnastics, and trying to remember which drawer the scissors are in while your coffee maker is still somewhere in the box marked "misc". But I'm finally past the chaos and fully vibing with this new season of me. And, coincidentally, also the new season of spring. Which comes with plot twists.
It's during this new season that a few surprises came about.....
Chicks Man
I'm a big fan of the No Rooster Rule. You know I love my hens, my girlz, but roosters? Too loud, too proud, too "I run this place" for my taste.
So naturally....I've had two roosters in the past couple of months. Because life has a sense of humor.
The first rooster appeared like an uninvited guest three days before I moved. Just strutting into my life in Gunter like he was auditioning for The Bachelor: Poultry Edition. I didn't have the heart to leave him, so he joined the moving caravan in the horse trailer, probably singing "Country Roads, Take Me Home".
Fast-forward: I rehomed him to Richard (my 86 year old mower fixer friend and unofficial Chicken Whisperer) who named him Dandy and was absolutely smitten. And just like that, I was rooster-less again....until I wasn't.
Enter Jonas. A loaner rooster from Lauren and Ryan. I didn't realize he was, shall we say, romantically ambitious, and before I could say "bawk bawk baby" my silkie splash and black frizzle turned into broody mamas and popped out eight chicks under a barn fan like they do this every day.
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| The mamas are amazing mothers to these 8 chicks. |
They are now living rent-free in a fan-fortified, chick friendly gated community (aka my barn corner) and being trained in the art of scratching, pecking and peeping. And yes, Brooks got to hold two and fell madly in love - he may or may not have whispered "I will hold you forever".
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| He was captivated by the smallness of them and wanted to love and hug them 🐣🐣 |
Honestly? I hope they are all hens. But my gut says there's at least one drama king hiding in the flock, just waiting for his crowing debut. Little does he know if you crow, you go.....
Dreaming vs Realizing Your Dreams
Confession: I've had a longtime dream of a cozy 1 bedroom, 1 bath house - something small, sweet and sassy. Yet, realtors look at me like I've asked for a unicorn that bakes bread.
Fast forward to my home purchase in Wolfe City which by the way I love this home. I love the layout, the rock on the outside, and the huge front porch.
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| I have plenty of outdoor room for Brooks and Olive's things. Plus dog beds and chairs. |
Yet after I've lived here a couple of months, I begin thinking about how wonderful it might be for a family, after all it has 4 bedrooms, 2 baths - and now I also had a garage placed nearby.
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| It's all the garage I need ✅ as it's not too big and not too small. It's just right for Cyndilocks |
And with all this in mind, it allowed me to think about what it is I'd really like to have for me. And that, my friends, is a small home.
So in the spirit of realizing dreams, I researched different small home opportunities such as tiny homes, a metal building home, manufactured homes, barndominiums, and then I came across my answer. The metal building guy suggested I contact a shed home builder in Commerce who builds small homes similar to building a shed. A glorified shed of wonders to be exact. Walls that are regular walls and insulated and textured like a regular house has. Yes, please.
Fate lead me to Josiah, a Mennonite builder with a heart of gold and hands that apparently carve dreams out of lumber. After I went to his place of business and saw several of his small homes, I decided I would have him build me one. Yes, please - a 1 bedroom, 1 bath, kitchen and living area (washer and dryer area too). They build their homes on site and by hand. They are builders by trade and this includes the cabinets in the kitchen. I loved the look of them and the livability of what he builds. Perfectly me.
Where will I put it? Right next to the mysterious metal wall and existing metal awning. Location, location, what's-that-wall-even-for.
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| Right next to this awning that is already existing |
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| This gives some context to the location I've chosen in relation to the main house |
The new road to the house? Getting built. Slowly. Mysteriously. Sometimes in the middle of the night. Which brings us to.....
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| The dirt/gravel mix begin to arrive and get unloaded on the road |
The Gospel According to Monty
And as I watched this dirt and gravel magically show up, I was always at work when it was occurring. I loved that the road was coming together and was excited that the wheels were in motion for this project.
Then, it was a Thursday night and I was fast asleep. That's when all the dogs lost their mind at 10:30 pm. Barking and barking and would not settle. So I got up and noticed there were unusual and new lights out my bedroom window. Hum, that's odd. There's an 18-wheeler on my property just casually dumping gravel like it's Fast and Furious: Farm Edition.
Naturally, I do what anyone does when there's a large, loud truck in your pasture after dark - I throw on boots, no flashlight, no phone, and just....go outside. Like I'm auditioning for a horror movie called The Gravel Awakens.
What do I find when I walk out there? There's a man under the truck. A cowboy hat. A broken gravel chute. And an unknowing of a TED talk in my future.
The only lights out in the pasture were from his truck - and from the moon. Unsure what to say, I simply start with "Hello" barely over the rumble of his big rig engine. In his haste to figure out this random voice, he turns around and is more surprised to see me than I am to see him. He then begins apologizing that his truck had broke down and he's been on the side of the road for 4 hours trying to fix it and lives in Paris and once he got his truck fixed he did not want to take this load of dirt and gravel back home so instead decided to deliver it late and did not know anyone lived here and he's sorry he's so dirty, and he went on and on and on.
It was at that moment that I realized that I was out in the pasture with just him. No phone. No light. Just me and him. And it was then that he looked around as if he was looking behind me for someone to appear and said, "Are you out here on your own? Where's your......." and his voice drifted off as if he was trying to ask me where my other person is and why they are not behind me heading outside too. I thought for a moment to make up a story about how someone else is here and they will be walking out soon too. But instead, I thought about Josiah and how he'd not send someone out here that's not of good intentions. So I confidently said, "I'm by myself out here." Upon which he begin to tell me how unsafe that is and how that's not a good idea and there's bad people in this world and he went on and on. It was in this moment I decided that his fear for me would not be my fear. Nor would I take on his fear that he was attempting to put on me.
And truth be told, I did not feel unsafe. Still, he rambled on a little more about safety and then turned the topic to Josiah. He asked how I knew Josiah, how long I've known Josiah and then he begin to tell me how wonderful Josiah is and how he'd do anything for him and that he was delivering this gravel for Josiah. Then, this all turned into a conversation about Josiah, his religion (he asked if I was Mennonite) then took a tangent to this man's own religion. I knew by the cross hanging around his neck glimmering from the lights of the truck that he was likely a religious man and would soon found out the truth in that. Faith. His faith runs deep and as he explained time and time again that night, his faith is what sees him through. I liked that about him.
Granted I've not been able to hardly get a word in edgewise with this man whose name I still do not know at this point. He had SO many words and went from one topic to the next without the need of any words or response from myself. He didn't even seem like he wanted or needed an answer to the questions he was asking me. Almost like a conversation with himself at me, instead of with me. He'd ask me something and then move on with his own words. Like he never even asked me a question.
Then, things took a turn. He begin telling me about how it's been a hard week for him. You see, he's trying to turn his rock and gravel business over to his 27 year old son and has even created a 4 year plan to do so. But earlier in the week, his son had been driving his actual dump truck and accidentally got a wheel too close to a culvert and the dump truck turned over with his son inside. Turns out his son is okay, but his dump truck is not. Then today he had his own big rig truck trouble on the side of the road. He told me about his 2 other adult children, 2 daughters 26 and 31 years old. He told me of the story of raising them as he divorced when the children were very young. He told me about the trials when his youngest daughter was 17 and in a drunk driving accident that had her thrown from a car and left her paralyzed from the chest down. Luckily, she has use of her arms but at the time was in hospital for 13 months and came home in a wheelchair. He told me about the journey of taking her home after she was able to leave the hospital. He said she asked him to wheel her/push her in her wheelchair out to the car and how he in return, had told her that from here on out, she would be pushing herself. He explained that he wanted her to be able to be independent from Day 1, and it would start at that moment. He said he cried as he walked behind her and she wheeled herself to their car. But from then on, she knew she could make it on her own - and she did. And when she asked to move into an apartment when she turned 24 years old, he did indeed help her move into her first very own apartment, but what she didn't know was that he had rented out a apartment close by in the same complex so he could watch her and be near in case she needed anything. He said his daughter never knew he had that apartment a few doors down and that all it had in it was a couch. He needed to have the ability to be close to her - just in case.
There are many details he freely gave me that painted a picture of his trials and tribulations of his life. Yet, his anchor in it all was - and is God. His faith is strong. And faith is what sees him through.
Then another turn happened. He says to me, "I see on your face that you have a story. What's your story?". This time......he waits and listens for a response from me. He's silent, patient, staring at me, waiting for my story. My eyes well up with tears and in the reflection of the running lights on the side of his truck, he notices my tears forming.
All I can think is: this man does not know me. Yet, he wants to know my story. He shared his story. He's asking for my story of pain or joy or anything that is my story and it seems the one thing he's really ready to hear from me now. A tear falls from my eye. And without hesitation he says, "Oh I see what's happening here. You're still blaming yourself. Well, I can tell you just what you need to do."
I'm unable to speak as the lump in my throat is in the way of my words. You see, earlier in our conversation I had briefly mentioned that I was divorced as well, and he had asked for how long. So he knew a few facts about me, but not much. He had mentioned in that conversation of divorce that he could see the pain in my face, and that truthbomb was a little much this time of night.
And then he says it. With the kind of boldness only a cowboy-preacher-trucker hybrid could pull off, as my glassy eyes reflect in the glow of the lights from the truck, he says "Suck it up, buttercup" with a sly smile. He continues, "We'll have none of these tears out here. It wasn't your fault. You're not to blame. I know this to be true. Your faith will see you through this".
Frozen, I'm staring into his eyes like I'm in a trance. I wipe my tears with my t-shirt and I'm still unable to speak. He just told me to suck it up. I'm standing out in the middle of my pasture, now 11:30 pm in the darkness beside the running lights on the side of his truck and the moonlight. I've not moved for 1 hour from this same spot I'm standing in. And he's standing so close to me that I feel like he's in my hula hoop and somehow it doesn't matter. When I finally speak, the only words that come out of my mouth are, "What's your name?". He answers, "Monty. I'm Monty and I've been doing this work for 40 years of my life and I'm ready to retire and turn this business over to my son. It's just not as easy as I thought it would be to do that." and we are now traveling down that path with his many words.
We never go back to my story. Yet just the fact he asked for my story and if I could have said the words to him regarding my story, he would likely have heard and listened. But I was not able to get the words out. And I was not going to be able to get the words out on this night. We both knew that.
As midnight approaches, we begin closing our (his) conversation. As I turned to walk back towards my house, he was walking towards the cab of his truck and says, "Hop up here" gesturing to the chrome bar and running bar he uses to get inside the cab of his truck. He hops in the truck and extends his hand to pull me up on the running bar and tells me to "Hold On" as he motions for me to grab the chrome bar. With his door still open and me holding on, he puts the 18 wheeler in gear and off we go. The cool breeze of the night feels comforting as his truck takes us back to the front gate. He slows to a stop and I hop down off the truck. He reaches for his business card and hands it to me, saying I should call him sometime and we could meet and talk. I smile and tell him thank you as he shuts his door. I proceed to put the code in my front gate so it will open. He guns his truck and with a jolt, it moves a little further up towards me.
And with his window rolled down, he looks out at me and the final words of the night came out of his mouth:
"Remember what I told you, suck it up buttercup. No more crying." And away he went. And weirdly, it works. It lands. Something shifts. And I stand in the moonlight thinking, did that just happen? It did.
Nice TED talk, Monty, you dusty angel of gravel. As I watched the lights from his truck slowly move further away, I'm in awe of what just happened for the last 1 1/2 hours in the dark of the night. I would need to process what just happened. But for now, it's back to bed.
When I awoke the next day, and all days since that Thursday, I think about all the words Monty gifted me. He knows nothing of me, yet freely gave his story - and asked for mine. He would have held my story if I could have gotten it out. This is what connection feels like. And I'll get there too, Monty, with you as a testimony to show others the way.
Josiah
It would be a few days later that Josiah came and spread the gravel and rock on the road. I could only think that he has no idea the depths of what tea this gravel has spilled. Underneath it all, are nuggets forever on the road.
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| This road turns and heads back toward that metal awning back behind that (weird) metal wall. |
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| King of the Hill X3 |
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| The story continues...... |
Coop
Plot twist: I didn't get more chickens. I got another dog. Because when people say, "Your going to end up getting more chickens", I like to keep em guessing.
Meet Cooper, a sweet, well-adjusted dog that makes all my misfit pups look like they were raised on a pirate ship. Coop came from a normal suburbia home but needed more space. And apparently a barn, a pasture and some squirrel-chasing buddies.
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| This is Cooper |
The back story on Cooper is that I've heard about him for 2 years now at work. He's one of the dogs that my nursing director has. The stories I've heard were ones of struggle and strife with Coop at their house. Megan (nursing director) had teasingly said multiple times that if she dropped him off near my house, would I pick him up off the side of the road like I did Mia? We talked that story on many occasions until one day recently, we decided that we would really give Cooper a trial run visit at the farm to see if he's a fit here. Her family was officially ready to re-home him. And it's official. He's now a farm dog.
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| Cooper and Theo were fast friends |
He's already one of the Littles (with Maybe, Sugar, Crazy Char and Theo the Terror) and he fits in like he's always been here. First thing I did? Give him a haircut that now makes him look like he's permanently wearing a t-shirt.
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| Honestly, 10/10 no notes |
So here we are: new chicks, new dog, new home on the way, and maybe, just maybe....a new chapter for the main house, too - will Lauren and Ryan move in? The suspense.
Stay tuned, friends.
With love, gravel, baby chicks, and the occasional midnight lesson from Cowboy Monty,
Cyndi
