Our Farm Table...the Center of Our Home

Our reclaimed, barn board, farm table is truly the center of our family's life.  It is a true friend of today's lifestyle as it morphs perfectly as a durable, low maintenance and yet decorative work horse.  We find ourselves there at least once a day and more often many times throughout the day.  The simple fact that our farm table holds a prominent location right, smack in the middle of our home and is at the crossroads to the rest of the house, lends itself well as more than just a place to eat and converse.

The occasional ding and dibble seems to blend in as the years of character from weather and wear act as a natural camouflage.  The sponge-wipe-for-life, smooth surface offers a sort of refuge and peace of mind as though to reminded us that the table is here to work and with a sense of "grace under fire."

The busy schedule that we all keep has a way of forcing us to be somewhat centralized as we traverse from room to room searching for the "this that and the other," temporarily misplaced necessity as we prepare for our next trip to and from schools, classes, appointments, work, family functions and social commitments...not to mention the occasional respite from perpetual motion when we actually get a moment to sit!

So, aside from the ever-changing decorative centerpiece, we often have a collection of mail, catalogs, electronic devices, the ever-elusive set of keys, a tea or coffee mug...or two...or three, or so, a few books, newspaper, school projects, coupons and quite often a laptop or two.  All serving an important role in our very current, up to date, can't seem to catch up lives!

We do have the almost daily, traditional meals or holiday feast where we clear the decks and adorn the old wood surface with a full complement of vintage, table appointments suitable for a much needed moment of grace and interpersonal connectivity.  Ah, the slow motion of those moments and the daily updates from whomever about who knows what.  Then, the tranquility is set on pause while one or two unfortunate "volunteers" clatter their way through the clean, rinse and stack ritual that inevitably must follow what was a sacred, healing experience.  Such is the cadence of life.