My Turn: Appreciation for life grows with a walk in the woods

After a busy morning, my husband, John says, "Let's take a walk in the woods."

"What! But we have so much work to do," I respond.

In winter, there's preparing for the Southold Garden Club Christmas workshop, cutting a load of Colorado blue spruce branches from the field, setting up tables in the barn for assembling wreaths and swags. This time of year we are plowing the fields and planting our crops.

But secretly, I know a walk is a good idea.

We often walk on our 39-acre farm on Route 48 in Peconic that has been family-owned for 122 years. Fifteen acres are used for chrysanthemums, Montauk daisies and decorative kale. Mums are potted in greenhouses, then placed in the field in May to complete the growing cycle. Each year the number increases. This spring, we had more than 130,000 — a rainbow of burgundy, yellow, lavender and orange.

Occasionally, we see red-tailed hawks, flocks of geese, turtles, wild turkeys and sometimes a red fox. John works with Karen Testa, the executive director of Turtle Rescue of the Hamptons, in Jamesport, which saves as many as 200 turtles a year. Each year turtles are displaced from their habitat because of new construction; traffic causes injuries when they cross roads; well-meaning people adopt a turtle for a pet, resulting in improper diet and lack of exercise. Once rehabilitated, some turtles are released on our farm.

Walking by the mums, we head toward the three-and-a-half-acre sheep lot on the south side of Soundview Avenue, away from the bustling traffic on Route 48. This area is part of the 26-acre parcel of woods and wetlands. During Colonial times, these areas were used for sheep.

As we walk, we see natural ferns along a running stream on its way to Long Island Sound. John drank from this stream as a boy. North American bluebird houses nearby were placed there by John's cousin years ago as part of a project to encourage bluebirds. A natural pond contains turtles, frogs and small fish. A blue heron makes frequent visits.

Entering the sheep lot, we take a break on a rescued bench. It was put out for curbside garbage pickup in Moriches, and John transported it back to Peconic, made minor repairs and placed it in the north corner facing south. While we sit there, time stops — just quiet, gentle breezes and stillness. We speak of his parents and their foresight to preserve this pristine land. Their ability to farm and realize the value of the land made all this possible. In 1930, they married and had the farmhouse built on 39 acres of farmland. Over the years, John's dad, John Sr., purchased adjoining acreage.

We speak of John's mom, Julia, on the day she walked to the sheep lot with a machete to hack branches from a cedar for Christmas decorations. Today, John and I sit on the patched-up bench talking about our blessed life. We are grateful to have met, to have recently celebrated 23 years of marriage.

We share a love for travel. In just 13 years, we have traveled to more than 100 countries. During these trips, we develop a greater appreciation for each other while discovering the world.

During a visit to an orphanage in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, I watched John smiling with a child sitting on his lap during a dance recital. The child instantly trusted John, and he was drawn to her innocence, charm and talent. The musician was late, yet a 5-year-old girl danced for us without music.

Our time in the sheep lot gives us a chance to appreciate the blessings in our lives — good health, never taking it for granted; our marriage after having met on a Friday evening in May 1992 at North Fork Community Theatre in Mattituck.

Our desire to be with each other continues to grow. These moments on the bench give us the opportunity to reminisce and take comfort in our lives — no interruptions or loud sounds, only quiet.

Who would have thought that a blind date 29 years ago would turn into a life of loving each other?

Rita E. Sepenoski,

Moriches