Here. Intense focus was required on the drive out: (donotpukedonotpukedonotpuke.) I did not puke.

G seems grateful I am here. I am grateful to be here. I am grateful he is grateful, too.

I'm tired, and haven't even started in on farm work. I spent most of the afternoon cleaning the outdoor kitchen, which was dusty and cobwebbed after 5 months of sitting idle.

Now I am sitting on the porch with a soundtrack of crickets, a distant tractor, and the neighbor's obnoxious goose.

There was a part of me that was disappointed I didn't step out of the truck, take a deep breath of country air, and decide "now I am happy." I even felt a little uneasy this afternoon wondering when, and if, this happiness might strike. And what did it mean if it didn't?

I finished cleaning the kitchen and found G in the field, spreading chicken manure. I asked if he wanted help, but he suggested I go get settled. I unpacked, then went to the kitchen and made a cup of tea. I wrote a little bit, stared out at the trees, sipped tea. I realized that I am learning something important; I am learning that happiness does not just happen. No environment, person, thing, or circumstance is going to make me happy. These things can enhance life and contribute much joy, peace, companionship... But happiness has to come from within. (It's amazing how many times I have heard some variation of this, but never really understood until recently.)

Happiness requires legwork. I am used to running on a fuel of negativity, anxiety, rumination. I think i have to actively wean myself of this, and replace it with acceptance and a sense of being present in the moment. Luckily I have a beautiful place in which to practice.

I looked up a few minutes ago and realized the trees in front of me are loaded with small fruit. A peach and a fig. Rain is predicted for tomorrow, so in a bit G and I are going to roll up the row covers.