Liberty, Idaho
One of the fond, if not defining memories of my childhood has root in sitting around an oak kitchen table listening to my grandparents visiting with relatives, near and distant, friends, neighbors, and even complete strangers on occasion. They lived in farmhouse in southern Idaho built by my great grandfather, Charles Houston Brown, who had been sent to farm and settle by Brigham Young in 1875.
The farmhouse lies twenty miles north of Bear Lake in a town called Liberty. Although not ideal for farming due to a hostile sub climate, the Bear Lake Valley has a magnet of beauty and peace that anchored many of the descendants of those early settlers in place. I have always known and referred to my grandfather and grandmother by their first names, Frank and Jennie. A level of informality permeated their existence. I grew up in Salt Lake City, a three-hour drive from Liberty. During the summer months whenever the opportunity arose, I jumped at the chance to spend time on the farm. Often on those summer days, someone would arrive, unexpected, but welcome, bearing nothing more than stories and memories. They would come into the kitchen, sit around the table sipping coffee or Postum, reliving the past and accounting for the present. Mostly the talk centered around family, but often drifted into religion and politics. Frank and Jennie’s home was a gathering place. Simple, a wood stove for cooking and heating, hand braided rugs over a pine floor, but warm with hospitality.
Many of the visitors had spent time on the farm when they were children, remembering with fondness their adventures as I do now; catching frogs in the irrigation ditches, pitching hay, riding horses, cutting firewood, milking cows, feeding calves, eating fresh picked vegetables, drinking fresh milk, driving tractors, shooting ground squirrels… living a few days of life in a place that had few boundaries and fewer rules. I struggle to remember most of the stories I listened to, a few have been written down, but mostly I remember the feelings of acceptance, love, and peace; a gathering place where people came to remember and recharge while forgetting the press of the present. Fifty-five years have passed since those summer afternoon visits began to engrave my consciousness. Frank and Jennie remain only in memories, having passed away in 1975. Still, Liberty and the farmhouse have an amazing draw. Two generations later it remains a gathering place where friends, cousins, siblings, and children sit around the same oak table telling stories, playing games, trying to emulate the legacy that Frank and Jenny planted into our souls.
The idea of a using the theme “Gathered Life” to launch a lifestyle blog that describes the ideals that have guided many of the decisions that I have made in my life comes more as an afterthought or analysis that an original mission statement. Yet as I look back it fits well and easily incorporates into the way I have tried to live, what I enjoy most, and what I hope to accomplish by writing this blog on a regular basis. As I recall the stories that I have gathered over the years, starting with Liberty, but continuing over my lifetime. Most of my life experience has come from the encounters that I have had with other people. I have learned from their stories. They have stimulated or encouraged me to seek my own learning and experiences. Since it is impossible and often not wise to experience everything, learning from one another can be both efficient and smart. To this point I have had a rich life. I have traveled, I have met interesting people. My career has been interesting and varied. I feel like my story may be useful, interesting, and relevant to some people. Whether the reader wants to learn from my experience, share in my experience, or avoid the same experience, each has validity. I invite the reader to join as I tell stories from my past, and adventure into the future.
My wife, Terrie, and I have opened our home as a bed and breakfast. We have decided to call it Maison de Terre, French for house of earth. Terrie spent several years in France where she gathered a love for all things French, especially cuisine. We have built our home in part by gathering materials from the surrounding landscape: logs, adobe, and stone. It is a grand but informal house taking inspiration from places we have admired throughout the world including the French farmhouses, southwest adobe structures, and the home of Frank and Jennie in southern Idaho. Part of our motivation for running a bed and breakfast is economical, but deeper is our desire to gather and hear stories of people we have not yet had the chance to meet. We invite you to not only read about our adventures, but to join us at our table in our home.