The drive to the farm in the middle of the night, in the darkness in a car with someone you have conversed with for hours but just met face to face is an experience in itself. What made it more interesting with each turn and every next mile was that We were entering a place in America that few ever visited, gated communities, secluded homesteads and a lifestyle of peace and tranquility.

There were no streetlights along these rolling hills but there were illuminated nameplates of the family that resided at the gateway of each “farm”. In the darkness as we drove up the hill off the two lane road the front of a modest brick home became apparent in the moonlight and I finally felt a bit relaxed as We had reached my new sanctuary, my new refuge.

Entering Nancy’s home was like walking into what I thought was a mid-western America farm museum, all kinds of artifacts and interesting paints, objects, farm tools, things from nature, canned goods, tools and utensils of all kinds. Each room unfolded into another and everything was original, an antique, historical and many one of kind, the finest woodwork and craftsmanship represented in every piece of furniture. The appearance of a quaint little farmhouse had faded away and I was now walking through a Better Homes and Gardens Classic.

Each book on a shelve and every painting that adorned a wall had a personal story of its own of which Nancy played a role and the life of this woman was much more than what she had shared with me in letters and conversations. In the darkness of the night and tall tree blinds that buffered the winds what appeared to be a nice little piece of Earth was expanding into much more with each ray of Sun as the morning came. The hills covered with hay, fruit trees everywhere, imported grasses and plants from around the world meticulously laid out in zones from decades ago, well groomed well cared for. It was a garden paradise.

The Farm was a little over 35 acres and it was a wedding gift from Nancy’s deceased husband, a descendent of the first settlers in the area that would become the state of Illinois, a wealthy land owning family. Her husband fell in love with her at first sight, found out that she loved gardening and made her an offer she could not refuse. He promised her fertile land and whatever labor or help she needed to create the gardens of her dreams and to live the rest of her life there.

And so she did. There were many massive gardens spread across the farm that included wooded area, streams, ponds and over forty years she imported trees, plants and grasses from all over the world. Rocks were trucked in from surrounding states to create walls and terraces, pathways and waterfalls.

When the Sun had fully risen I had to get out early to see more of where I was at and my first view out the bedroom window was stunning to say the least. Rustic barns, chicken coops, hay bins, tractors, semis, trailers, a lake not a pond a lake down the walkway out the back door and farmland as far as I could see. Nancy took me out to the nearest barn and there was here favorite toy, an off road mini vehicle that had all of her gardening tools and supplies. As we quickly took off up the trail into the wooded area the I looked back into the rear of the barn and there were rows and rows of antique tractors, plows, and old trucks. I wanted to see the farm and the gardens but I could not wait to get back and into those old trucks.

Once out on the trail and deep into the woods different gardens began to appear and it was easy to see which had been planted ten years ago and which were planted five years ago, there were different themes and color schemes, plants arranged so that at all times of the growing season something was blooming. There was a lot of planning and effort put into building these gardens and with the help of year round laborers and her late husband fulfilling his promise, Nancy had created a hidden gem, a masterpiece. In the summer local gardening groups and out of state visitors would tour the farm.

It took most of the day to drive the entire farm and we barely had time to stop and spend time at each and every gardening zone but it was enough to convince me that this woman, Nancy Bonner, was exceptional. Coming over the last hill the small quaint farm house was really a rambling estate much larger than it seemed at night and it was dinnertime. It middle America, farmland USA, dinnertime is a special event every night and every meal is made from only what farm provides.

The Kitchen. Next to her gardens The Kitchen was Nancy’s favorite place to be, it was her domain it was where she excelled and so after I cleaned up I found my way to The Kitchen. She was preparing many things from vegetables to breads, baked chicken fried fish deviled eggs etc. The main dish though that she wanted me to indulge in was the dessert. From her fruit trees that she had planted were pears and apples of which were her pride and joy, and now they were going into her famous Apple Pear Cobbler. It was the closest creation of a cobbler that I had ever tasted second only but just as delicious as my Mothers.

The Kitchen itself was a museum, a display of every imaginable utensil a chef could possibly use, a huge butcher block table that seated eight and served as a waiting area and observation deck of The Cook in action. So all was good that first day there on The Farm and after divulging in a divine meal it was time to sit down in The Great Room and have an after dinner conversation. Hitting the remote caused the ceiling to floor drapes to pull back from the massive window through which the lake in the backyard hosted several deer feeding. It was an unreal but idyllic scene and now I was thinking how miraculous it was the transition from one place to another, from one deeply introspective friendship/relationship to the possibility of another.

Within 24 hours all nervousness about this not so typical meeting had settled for the most part. I was comfortable with what I had seen so far and there were no major surprises or red flags. Nancy was a honest woman of her word, she was still very curious and had tons of questions but they were valid for the situation and did not make me uncomfortable in any way.

Prior to arriving at The Farm Nancy and I agreed the duration of my stay would be “open” and We would determine how long that would be based upon the way things went as time passed on. This was good for me and for her, and there were a few times when the conversation strayed off into some unexpected areas or expectations were corrected but all was still good. Nancy had an active schedule that involved several drives a week into the nearby town to meet her friends for lunch as she always did for over thirty years and belonged to many craft and farming clubs

It took several days to finally realize that consistent dependable internet service had not yet reached this area and the best that was available was a shaky service from Verizon. Shifted everything to eliminate to reliance on The Internet to offline did the best that I could with what I had to work with. When the weather was cooperative and the mosquitoes were at a minimum I walked the fields and trails of the farm in silence at times and at other listening to audio books. Rarely did I encounter anyone from a nearby farm but it was deer hunting season during the summer and caution was a prerequisite.

This visit became a retreat. The unavailability of the internet served a greater purpose and caused me to be more introspective and less distracted, less wasting of time. By now I had become accustomed to being out of contact from my children for awhile and resolved myself that all that I could do was done and they were adults now. I hoped that one day one or all of them had the desire to reach out in some way and express an desire to reconnect. It did not happen though and it was not for many years later that I became aware of some of the reasons why.

Social media was not what it is today and I was certainly behind the learning curve of sites like MySpace, Facebook, Pinterest, Twitter, etc. I had no idea what was going on with The Childless Aunt or any of my children. I trusted that with maturity my children would have some interest one day and giving them space at that time was the best thing to do.

Towards the end of the summer Nancy’s family was making plans for an annual family trip and that year it would be to Costa Rico for a few weeks and initially Nancy wanted me to go with them but after much thought and discussion it was agreed that I would return to Denver and return in a few weeks or month.

Since I would be returning to The Farm at a later date when I returned to Denver instead of securing a permanent residence I opted to stay at My mother's whom had a two bedroom apartment. All went well during that stay and I visited with my Father, we discussed the farming I had experienced since he was a farmer in Mississippi and he encouraged me to “see the world as much as I could as he once did”. He seemed to be in good spirits and health and I was not aware of any plans that The Childless Aunt had to move him elsewhere or any major changes. Regardless of our differences and her behavior toward me and my Mother I still felt this was best And she could be trusted at all times to do the right thing.

The Gardens of Antioch