The Farm
The farm I live on in Desha, Arkansas is not a traditional working farm. Yes, it has had its share of livestock--horses, sheep, and one cow. We also had chickens along with some dogs and cats.
But the true purpose of the farm is a place for me to live in a peaceful environment. I love to be close to nature. I like this awesome land in the Ozarks, a place of natural beauty.
The Winters Park Farm
My husband, John Winters, and I decided to purchase the 83 acres of land in this scenic part of northwest Arkansas with the intention of enjoying our golden years. You can read about it in my memoir, French Twist–A Tale of Travel, Testing and Triumph.
Cattle on the ranch in Deland, FloridaThe land at the time we bought it was a beautiful area of streams and woods running from the pasture down to the streams—and there were numerous cedar trees. The wildlife included deer, turkeys, snakes and more. About 40 of the acres resembled a cow pasture with very old fences. We didn’t intend to keep cattle although I had experience from my time with the ranch in Deland, Florida.
Nature and Walking The Land
I loved walking the land and just being out in nature by myself. I would even talk loudly to myself. It was a refuge where I could be free and feel alive and it helped me heal after my husband’s passing.
In the book I mention how John had enjoyed many summers in this part of the country. Although his mother has passed away, his father, Alva Winters, who was born in Traskwood, attended the University of Arkansas where he was a prominent football player and captain of the Razorbacks. He worked for many years as an electrical engineer and at the time was still living in Arkansas. John liked the idea of returning to a land of his youth.
Although our dream of living out our years together on the farm was spoiled by John’s sudden onset of Leukemia, the place has become the final resting place for him as well as his parents. I had a chapel and mausoleum built on the land and it is a comfort to me that this is their resting place and where eventually I will also be laid to rest.
Thinking back on that time, I recall the day we buried my beloved husband.
I had made arrangements with the builder to get the crypts ready in five days. I wanted John on the farm. We had eight wonderful years together. But then the cruel fate of cancer and his eventual death. John had died in my arms. Now it was time for his burial.
The phone rang early that morning, the local funeral home informing me that they were ready to bring John to the farm.
When the hearse pulled up I walked to the back and asked the driver to open the coffin. He said, “I don’t think it is a good idea!” I told him I want to make sure it is not someone else by mistake! I just want to make sure it is my husband!
He opened the top…it was John!
John and Janine Winters HugThe driver drove to the mausoleum construction. My friend Pam and I closed up the front with a heavy cement wall.
John was home. Soon his mother would be brought here, too, the wish of Grandpa Winters, John’s father. And in time he would also be buried here
The family had gathered. John’s two children Mike and Beth came from Milwaukee. My son Bruno from Montreal and daughter Murielle from Tampa were also there. And of course, John’s father, Alva. The weather changed overnight the day we buried John Charles Winters. It was very cold and the sky was grey. The weather fit my mood of sadness.
I wanted to be strong in front of my family. We were in Grandpa Winter's living room when I broke the news. “I am not leaving Arkansas! John and I made up our mind! Pawpaw Winters can tell you!”
We planned on a family mausoleum to bring back Grandmother (John’s mother) from the cemetery in Traskwood, Arkansas. Here at the Farm is where John and his parents were buried and it will be my final resting place, too.
John and his dad had made the drawing of the chapel. But they died before I finished building the chapel. I love spending time there. It is a special place where I can open all doors and speak out loud to the spirits.
I was also able to plant rose bushes there. It adds to the beauty of the chapel and mausoleum and it comforts me, just like when I planted ten 7-foot pecan trees around the large mobile home I had installed on the land. It made a lot more sense for that to be my home rather than spending so much on the new construction of a house.
I could tell our children did not like Arkansas. They thought of Arkansas folk as backwards and rednecks. It’s an easy assumption to make–unless you actually get to know people.
Woody was our caretaker and his wife Mickey cleaned my home. They were the first folks concerned about us. I enjoyed being around them! They were like family. Both of them were in their seventies and they taught me how to get along with the local folks.
I have never regretted living in Arkansas.
I have been to many countries but I find peace here.
Over the years there have been many memories here. One of the things that proved profitable was my growing of herbs using hydroponic farming.
