I’ve always found it sort of amusing when people abandon their blogs for months, and then return and write a breathless apology, explaining that life just got so CRAZY—they couldn’t keep up. And then they don’t write their next post until about two months later, and it’s the same thing—an apology. Cracks me up, for some reason. Maybe because it’s just so inevitable. Isn’t life always crazy? Do we really EVER have time for blogging? So, I’ll resist the urge to apologize here (and yes, I do have the urge).
Instead, I’ll tell you that despite our inability to keep up with the Story Farm blog, according to our metrics, which at one point we tracked obsessively, we still get about 50 hits a day. But sadly, it’s not because people are yearning for the Story Farm, dying to hear what will come next. It’s because people are searching for “money trees” and “pigs in the mud.”
See, if you browse through the Story Farm archives you’ll see that we’ve used all kinds of illustrations and photos to go with our posts (not particularly legally, but um, that’s another post). Anyway, at some point we used a pig in the mud, probably to talk about wanting to get our feet dirty, and at another point we used a money tree, probably to talk about how to raise funds for the Story Farm. And the “alt tags” attached to those images show up in Google Image results. (Try Googling “money tree,” and you’ll find us on the very first page).
Nevermind that we don’t necessarily want to be associated with money trees, or muddy pigs, not that there’s anything wrong with either. What fascinates me is what appears to be an international desire for images of muddy pigs and money trees. According to our stats, people who speak languages I don’t even recognize have searched for these pigs and trees. We can hope, I guess, that when they stumbled upon our site, they changed their minds. Never mind money trees, they thought. How about a farm in the Midwest that grows stories?
We leave in 10 days for Minneapolis, and I’m really, really sad to leave. It doesn’t help that it’s somehow spring in Berkeley now (huh?), and the cherry blossoms and jasmine and honeysuckle are firing off their scents, making me feel that indescribable springy feeling… newness and desire and contentment and curiosity and hunger for nothing in particular. Luckily, we get to experience springtime again, in Minnesota, in, um, a few months….
Due to some paperwork issues I won’t bother going into, we won’t be moving into our new (old) house until April. Somehow that makes it harder to go “home”—the fact that we’ll be staying at Eric’s folks’ house in the suburbs. It’ll be a funny little interrim time…. cold and full of many trips to the Dunn Bros coffee drive-through in Long Lake. I’ll probably forget about spring.
But then it’ll come, again… and we’ll be in our house, and at some point the snow will melt (it does melt, right? I can’t remember), and we’ll see our front yard for the first time… and whatever the heck is growing there. I can’t wait to find out—will there will be hostas? Ground cover? Shrubs? Weeds? Is that little tree in the backyard an apple tree? Or a honey locust?
Maybe it’s a money tree. We’ll have to wait for spring to find out.