Hello everyone.
(I can barely walk in these boots. It is so heavy for me.)
My husband and son, who live on our farm, had some errands in another city for a few days. I had no choice but to go to the farm to tend to the animals.
The rooster's crow jolted me awake at 5 AM. Four days alone on the farm. A daunting task, but also a quiet adventure.
Stepping out into the cool morning air, I was greeted by a landscape transformed.
Spiderwebs, glistening with dew, draped every surface on the grass. It was as if the farm had been gift-wrapped overnight.
My usual farm duties took on a new rhythm. As I walked to the chicken coop, a motley crew trailed behind me.
The farm dog, a ginger cat, and a gaggle of curious chickens. They seemed to sense my solitude and offered their companionship.
Venturing further, I scanned the damp earth for mushrooms. A few familiar caps peeked out from beneath the leaves, enough for a simple omelet. Finding so many mushrooms on the farm is incredibly fulfilling. It might be because I grew up on a farm and used to look for mushrooms with my grandpa when I was young.
The chickens clucked excitedly, pecking at the disturbed soil, while the dog sniffed at my basket.
Those four days were a quiet symphony of farm life. The early morning walks, the shared meals with my animal companions, and the unexpected beauty of the spiderweb-laden landscape. It was a reminder that even in solitude, there is a profound connection to be found in the simple rhythms of nature.
