The owner/seller had stated that she needed a signed offer in hand by yesterday; otherwise the timber company would cut the trees on the 5.5 acres we hope to buy.
We had a deluge on Wednesday, another yesterday, and more rain overnight. The ground back there is very wet, and I couldn't help hope perhaps too wet for timber machines. Yesterday I walked back to the property line and stood in the pelting rain while a flock of birds sang like mad over the roar of rainfall. The trees along our line, the ones at risk of being cut, were tall and majestic and I sent them hope that they will be spared.
In the feed room 3 spiders had convened to make a triple layer of intricate webs. I took this as a lucky charm. In the house I got a spam email saying my guardian angel is trying to contact me. That put me in mind of my dad, and I asked for his divine intervention to save the trees and make this deal happen.
We are still not certain, but it appears the timbering machines have been removed from the 102 acres. The trees on the 5.5 acres still stand. At least for now, things are holding steady.
Meanwhile I have a second estimate coming in on Monday, our Farm Credit ready to work with me to make this happen, and possibly a fat check to write if we proceed, but it feels like this dream is still on the tracks.
This morning the sun has come out and pulled my attention from the back line to the back yard, where the sunflowers have become a center of activity. A charm of goldfinches are in the hickory tree making frequent forays to the sunflower heads. Swallowtails are fluttering around them as well, as are other smaller, darker birds and bees. I have found myself going to the window again and again to watch all the activity. The rest of the garden is ragged right now. The tomato vines are producing at a mad pace and most everything else is showing the effects of much sun and now rain. It will soon be time to do a thorough clearing out and preparing for the early fall plantings.
But today I'm enjoying the goldfinches and the butterflies and those huge old trees that stand like sentinels on the back of November Hill.