The farm spreads out across hills covered in the kinds of things one expects to see at a farm. Fences, fields planted with early summer crops, a large barn and random pieces of farming equipment waiting for the day’s work to begin. All of that and trees.

At the furthest edges of the farm, where the land runs along the edges of a wildlife preserve, the farm transforms into trees. Sections of maple, apples and pine grow thick and strong. The combination is more a matter of happenstance than planning, but there’s neither reason nor money to chop down two-thirds of farm-forest to begin the long slow process of planting and waiting that invariably marks the start of tree-based farming.

From the back porch, the trees are beautiful to look at. The seemingly mismatched patchwork of farm-forest is either symbolic of the essence of the farm, or merely suited to the people who live here. Either way, walking beneath the branches, working to harvest whatever the trees choose to give, and watching children climb and play, are as much a part of the farm as the sunrise and the rain.

Some things need no reason, they simply belong.

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