Thirty Years

Almost thirty years before this photo was taken of Corey and Buddy, a seventeen year old girl and her big sorrel gelding were striking a similar pose for her “senior picture”, as she approached her high school graduation. A girl, who at the time, had her mind set on the next leg of her journey being that of her as an animal science major (more specifically, equine) at a neighboring community college, not quite sure of where her aspirations would lead her. The only goal she was positive of, being that of securing a vocation which would leave her embedded in the only life she had ever known and had grown up loving. Life on a farm.
Circumstances sometimes force a shift in our goals, changing needs and blurring aspirations, altering the course of our lives. What rarely changes through out it all are our passions. The parts of our personality defining our character, often times leading us in directions we aren’t even conscience of at the time.
If you’re wondering by now where all of my philosophical meanderings are leading to in this post, it’s to the topic of karma. A subject of little consideration to me in the past. But while striving toward current objectives, I reflect on the conditions that have brought me here, and find it worthy of contemplation when considering the future.
You see, I am back to where I began. The college I attend, now as a horticulture major, seeking the education I consider necessary to secure my goal, is that same little community college I aspired to attend almost thirty years ago. The goal has not changed as I still love the farm and the promise of its existence. My passion of nature, and the wonderment it brings, handed down to my children.
Still wondering where karma comes in to play? As fate would have it, the head of the horticulture department where I now attend hinges his teaching practices on a philosophy of student led learning. The younger sibling of a man with special needs, his goal for his undergraduates to leave his instruction with knowledge detailed to their own requirements as well as curriculum specific. And if that’s not convincing enough, my Ag Chemicals instructor is the same man who would have supervised my education in equine science all those thirty years ago. Whether by my own hand or that of fate, late bloomer that I am, it seems I am now exactly where I was meant to be.

H.A.L.O. Valentine

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"What are We Doin' Next, Mom?"

A constant in my life is my eldest son's question, repeated a myriad of times each day, "What are we doin' next, Mom?" Fairly standard stuff if you don’t think about it. But for me the utterance of each response holds potential of all importance, as you see, the answer to Corey’s eminent questions are fundamental in his world, preparing him for transition, determining his days, shaping his life.
As children mature the verbiage of their questions often changes. The pronouns of their query typically shifting from we to I and their willingness of acceptance in our answers seldom a given. Challenging as it may be for us (and them) this,
I suppose, is what our ultimate goal has pretty much been from day one; to produce independent, problem solving souls, who question life and their ability to shape their own destiny.
At nineteen, my second born has not made this transition in thought, his questions of “what’s next” still including “we”. Irony playing a significant role in our grown up relationship -- the memory of my anxiety over whether or not he would ever be capable of independence of his father and I still fresh in my mind, as I lay the foundation for his future. My answers now more significant than ever before as they affect so much more than just our timing for lunch or if we will be stopping at the store today.
The “seed” for Late Bloomers has lain dormant for a number of years, a personal vision of sorts, just waiting for development. A year ago, when Corey was asked as he approached the end of his high school career, what it was that he wanted to do when he grew up, he answered with the confidence of a valedictorian, “A farmer. I want to be a farmer.” And so Late Bloomers seed was planted -- a little bit about farming, a little more of gardening, and a lot about the inclusion of an entire family and community.

I guess our little blog spot makes us official... sort of like a secret once you've said it out loud.
A bunch of 'late bloomers', not at all like the seeds you start in a sunny window in February that grow so fast.
And so we shall begin...