It’s 728am and I couldn’t resist not sitting and writing outside on the wooden porch. There is no amount of imagery that Hollywood could produce that would allow you to experience the serene calm tranquility that surrounds the home. We are surrounded by farmland on all four sides. The front of the home overlooks the cornfield that the family will plants during the last two weeks of April and continues on into the first 2 weeks of May.
The wind blows so strongly it shakes the house and you can hear it creak with the pressure that is exerted on its foundations. The skies above me are hazy and it looks like there is going to be rain at some point, but the clouds are just not heavy enough at the moment.
I can hear life all around me. Birds, the occasional barking of a dog and the rustling of the trees. I take out my MP3 recorder, plug in some headphones and make my way down the trodden path that leas to the home. I love the strong impact that the breaking of twigs and crunching of gravel makes beneath my feet as I walk, and I record these sounds. I walk around to one of the bushes to the left side of the home and see the various flowers that are coming up and focus on the bleeding heart. What an absolutely glorious flower. I see the embers of the bonfire we had the night before along with the sticks we used to barbeque our food and the marshmallows.
There are young trees that the family has been planting but it will take a few months or even years before they are old enough to stand up strong.
My 24 hours at the farm seem to have stood up to the test of the short days that we all experience. I didn’t need a wristwatch to tell me what the time was or how many minutes had passed by.
We are so stuck in the routines of our fast lives and busy contributing and being philanthropists for the material things, we tend to forget how wonderful and giving Mother Nature is. You come this close to her and you realize how little we do to take care of her.