Our little farm is divided exactly in half by a grid road. On one side lives the house, the barn, the animals … the fenced and maintained half. Cross the gravel road though, and you enter the wild side, where the grass doesn’t get mowed and the trees are all a jumble. Where blood suckers hide in the muddy banks of the dugout, and deer and fox and skunk hide their babies in the tall grass.

Guess where my children like to play.

Life could be all about the manicured and the tidy. There is a peaceful calm that exists when order is wrestled from chaos, and beauty is weed-free and careful. When it’s all managed and under control.

But life is also about the wild. About a little danger and adventure and of not knowing what exactly is hiding in the spot where my foot will step next.

On our little farm, the tidy and the wild live side by side. I point that out to the boys, every once in a while. It’s a good way to live.

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