This precious piece of land...



Taylor, blankie and Mr Snubby.

 We all have possessions, some more than others. We all cherish our children and pets of course, but each of us has that one tangible 'thing' we own that we could never bare to part with. Some store this priceless item away in a lock box, while others display their treasure prominently on the mantle. For each of us, that one item is different. My 2 1/2 year old, Taylor, drags her beloved blankie around with her everywhere. It was patiently sewn by my Nana's arthritic hands and is now worn soft by Taylor's love. Bed time does not come for her without it. It is her one priceless treasure.

Over the years what we hold dear waxes and wains like the moon. What we are inseparable with today will be found neatly folded away in an attic box tomorrow. I recently rediscovered my own treasured childhood possession in a storage box, Mr. Snubby, my teddy bear. My Aunt Carol had given him to me when I was born. He had stood guard in my crib as an infant and had a spot on my bed till I was nearly grown. I'm not sure when he found his way into that box, but I was delighted to see him again. His fur is matted down and his faced permanently squished to one side from all those years of snuggling. I'm sure he wouldn't fetch more than a dime at a yard sale today, but during my childhood, he was priceless. Some things just can't be replaced nor purchased for any amount of money. Some times the true value of a possession is far greater than its appraised value.

In the 1870's my great great grandfather, Edward Lee Taylor, purchased a farm just north of the Meherrin River, near the Lunenburg/ Brunswick County line in southern Virginia. Here he built a home for his wife, Sarah, and they began to farm and  raise a family. The stone chimney from their original farm house still stands. It was hand built from local field stones, each selected for their unique size and shape. A mortar mixture made of red clay provides both buffer and bond between each stone. It is a design that works, for it has stood tall and strong for over 140 years.



A rainbow over the old chimney.



Over the decades the Taylor family continued to live and work here on this farm. My great grandfather grew cotton and wheat, my grandfather planted tobacco and my father raised cattle and hogs. Like my ancestors before me, I grew up right here, working side by side with my father. He taught me what his father had taught him.  As an only child, I was my fathers shadow. 

With its red clay soil and ancient oak trees, I cherish this farm and dream of its possibilities. This piece of land has always been my home, as it was to so many Taylor's before me. And even though my last name has changed, my heritage has not. I was fortunate to marry a man who made my dreams for this farm his own, and who works tirelessly along side me to see them through.



 This farm is my one precious 'thing' with which I could never part. Money can not buy a family history like ours, embedded root deep in this piece of land. Every day I gaze out of my front window and see that old chimney. Statuesque and proud, each stone an individual, bound tightly to the next by that red clay soil. The Taylor family is reminiscent of that old chimney. Strong and proud, each individual with its own shape and unique qualities, bound together through the years by soil, the soil of our family farm.

It's a daily reminder of where we came from, and where we're going.