The remains of early farms are scattered all through the area, in the fields, woods, down in the valleys, and in the hills. Seems like no matter where the homestead was, you'll find the foundation stones and daffodils, reminders of the earliest European settlers who tried to make a go of carving their niche out of the land. No one will get rich here, but the beauty of the area makes it worth trying.

I have a pen pal in Montana. We've never met, but she always encouraged my writing. One year, she asked me for some samples of my poetry for a local art guild project. Artists chose from the selection of poetry offered by several writers and painted their interpretation of the poems. My friend sent me pictures of the creations based on poems I offered. This poem was one of those. When I saw the pictures, I cried. Such an honor. I still have the pictures and the memory of joy

Hopeful, nostalgic, melancholy, as well as several other adjectives. There is a LOT going on in comparatively few characters.

I tried to shape it, more than earlier poems that I wrote.