Gods Country to Almost Heaven…

When people say out west is Gods Country that is the truest description of the mountains, sky, people and culture you will ever hear. But then again as John Denver taught us Western Virginia is almost heaven. When you see dilapidated barns in little hollers with lush gardens and clothes blowing on the line, it feels pretty divine. How can you love two places so much yet they couldn’t be more different. The south is OLD, the culture, the mountains, the history. Bygone times still exist there in the folklore and tradition long held by families. The west is filled with folklore of a different kind, of strapping, tenacious and hard working pioneers that crossed impassible mountains with nothing more than hope and faith. The pioneer spirit still lives in the west, the pride of their ancestors who gave all to forge here shows in the youths liveliness. So different yet both so alluring to me for different reasons. Idaho is ranches and snow capped mountains. Log cabins scattered throughout  pine trees, only visible by fireplaces sending up gentle clouds of smoke. Virginia is hollers and rollings hills. Farmhouse porches with rocking chairs looking over corn fields and cows. Humidity, corn bread, country ham and of course sweet tea are essential while gossip about local echos through the valley. There will always be a longing for the one I am not currently inhabiting.

In January of 2017 life in Idaho changed, we were approached with an opportunity to have ownership in a Meat Processing Facility in Floyd, VA. We had only been to Floyd on family car rides when we were living in Rockbridge. It is an eclectic town of Hippies, Farmers, Preppers, Old timey Mountain Folk and Transplants (anyone in the south who hasn’t lived generations in the same town or county is a transplant) The county only has one true town as far as a hub goes and that is the town of Floyd, or the Republic of Floyd depending on who you ask. People come from far and wide to come to the Floyd Country Store and Flat foot dance to some old timey bluegrass and maybe even get em some white lighting. All around Floyd there are posters, shirts, you name it that say….Running on Floyd time. I’m not sure if that means taking it slow or running wide open but for us, running on Floyd time means no rest for the weary.

When we signed up to take on the local meat shop we had no idea that that meant processing more animals than should be humanely possible and dealing with all the problems that come along with such a business. We knew it would be tough and taxing and tiring but the quantity of customers and animals running through the shop at times was beyond our wildest imagination. Not to say that it wasn’t fun or couldn’t be done; if I do say so myself we kicked ass and took names. For two country bumpkins who have never run a business especially one as large as this one I think we held our own pretty well. The customers won over my heart, my visits with little old country folk telling stories of yesteryear gave me so much joy at times I thought my heart would burst. The work was long and hard but the appreciation we received from customers made it worth it. We got lots of thank yous in the form of canned beef, apple butter, farm attire and even a little corn likker.

Our house is an old white farmhouse on the hill with all things a good mountain home should have. A smokehouse, corn crib, lots of garden spots and a johnny house ( yes we have indoor plumbing!). This house may have my heart forever because I’ve never loved any home as much as this beauty. She’s crooked and cracked and creaky but she’s everything I could ask for and more.

Unfortunately all good things must come to an end. My love for this house couldn’t out way the lust we felt for Idaho after visiting this summer. We missed the scenery, the people, Winston’s old job, the kids school, the aura of the west…pretty much just Idaho. Could I live in this house forever…….of course, I love it! But there is something about the West that makes you ache for it when you leave, especially for men, and especially for men named Winston. If things had been different here with the investors we had with the butcher shop and the schools had been better would it be different? I don’t know? For me….maybe? For Winston…..not at all! He missed the ranch and the west so much it was like you took 200 lbs off his back when he got there. Same goes for the kids, they might have been born in the south but they are Idahoans through and through. So we made the call and in two weeks we will pack are bags for the 1,000,000th time and get in our Beverly hillbilly, gypsy caravan and head out into the wild unknown once again. I’m sure people will have lots to say, my favorite is always that we need to find a place and settle down, stay there forever. It sounds nice sometimes and maybe we will do just that…..but maybe we will never be truly settled. Every time I think OK this is it. And then that thought floats out the window with the rest of them. Idaho feels like home and I think it will be at least till the kids are out on their own. All I know is life is hard and fast and we are just guna hold on and enjoy the ride for now.

till the next time…

the little farmers that could