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browse in our fields and drink in our ponds. We thrilled at the taste of fresh vegetables from our garden each lunch-time during our 24 summers since I retired from the Navy.
We delighted in our splendid isolations, safe and secure at the end of our half-mile long driveway. But shovelling snow from that road, scraping gravel, and repairing storm damage were beginning to become chores, as was mowing seven acres of grass on the slopes around our house.
Reluctantly, thanks to some prodding from old Father Time, we have decided we could no longer care for our 46 acres, no matter how much we loved them.
How can we say goodbye to these hills, these fields, our church, our volunteer activities? How can we leave these things and take up a new lifestyle in a new location, at our ages?
More importantly, how could we leave these friends with whom we have laughed and cried for so many years? Some old friends have passed on; children have been bom, and grown to maturity while we watched.
It won’t be easy. But we think God has called us for a purpose to Hilton Head, and we can hardly wait to see
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